Hidden Joy

“Art is artificial” the sentence read I thought over words and felt dead It took away all my energy I felt self disgrace and pity I was writing all along Whether it was right or wring I used to feed stuff to readers Sometimes acting as offenders “Was it complete lie? ’ Why truth I did not try? Was it merely playing with sentiments? This single sentence has made me to resent My face delights with shine When someone comment “fine” Now it sends shiver Real feeling inside with fear But there is hidden joy It makes me completely to enjoy If my artificial words are taken seriously I must write for them continuously Yes truth is naked It can not be faked “Death can not experienced” But words can make us as if glanced We know that life is full of illusion Sometimes we go on with confusion Yet interest to live with dual role remains intact This is ironically a true thing and fact too