I am afraid of my incompleteness!
The part of me, which is still human,
Is afraid of the dark loneliness.
Is afraid of the lofty dilemmas
Of life, love and death.
Relationships, lust and their worth.
I am the Hamlet of my story,
Destined to die, for the madness
I imbibe, I perceive and I thrive.
I am the Othello from the tragedy,
With a difference, as I think,
‘To be or not to be.’
I am the Macbeth, slave of my desires,
I am that naive child who aspires.
I am the loneliness personified!
Yet I am afraid
Of the incompleteness
That I have always had.