Literal Pitstop
Sometimes.
I wish to beat dad.
He is too good in chess.
I wish to kill myself.
She talks too much.
I wish to be a dead star.
Then pour down as wish star.
I wish for everything.
Unlike Lenka, of course, not all at once.
Sometimes.
I wish for oblivion.
Only then I could equate infinity.
I wish to be abducted.
The only time when someone will open doors for me.
I wish to be sold.
Only then my worth will be a headline.
I wish to be ugly.
And freely criticize the chauvinistic society.
Sometimes.
I wish, I was Osama-bin-laden.
Pop-up into reality, consistently and ostentatiously.
I wish, I was Hitler.
Jot the remaining of my life in confinement.
I wish, I was Raavan.
The man with the might of a mountain and also patience as one.
I wish I was Gandhi.
Just to explain why I included him on the list.
Sometimes.
I wish to be a thief.
Be a living example of ‘Hindrances of being a Robin Hood.’
I wish to be a junkie.
Learn to hide in clearest sight.
I wish to be a rapist.
Maintain the secularity in the riots.
I wish to be the dark Messiah himself.
Publish an autobiography.
Always.
I wish not to be me.
The one who,
belligerently,
Constantly,
blatantly,
only,
wishes