You've done enough dude, now you must stop.

There are times when a man reflects. A man of of a thousand words, strong ones at that and that too in that utterly romantic language- Urdu. To call him a man however, would be travesty. How does one call a somebody who gets drunk in one draught of beer a man? Only in jest, one should conclude. And that is exactly what one concludes. That is not to say that the degree of intoxication that a draught of beer induces in a male is a measure of his virility. Just that anecdotes sometimes speak better than strong reasoning. But let's not stray. His virility is
hardly a subject of our interest today or any other day, for that matter.

Yes, as i was saying- there are times when a man reflects. This man (for want of a better title. though i am enjoying the fact that i refer to him not with his name- thats one of the greatest disrespects you can bestow upon a man. and that's exactly why i choose to keep him nameless), as he looks in the mirror. And he asks his self in the mirror,
"Why o why,
must this agony come,
why o why,
must i deal with this,
n why o why,
does all this happen,
n why o why,
must this travail come."

Though as he says this, mud oozes out of the pores in his body. Though the mirror is faulty. So, he can't see the mud. He just sees a pristine image of himself. He pummels his hands on the mirror in anguish and he lets out a suppressed shout, no no, more like a suppressed shriek.

Today, however is a somewhat different day. The mirror is inclined to the truth today. Something very special happened today. Specialer things have happened. But, anyways. Today is today, for a variety of reasons. Our subject however, keeps banging his fists on the mirror, inducing a new crack every time he does so. And by the time the mirror starts speaking the truth, he has broken it way too much to see and understand clearly what it is saying.

And this is what he hears-
"To men who know,
only pain,
and who happiness have never seen,

who are destined to never posess her,
and who happiness have never seen,

To men whose egos must be hurt,
because of a worthless piece of shit,
and who happiness have never seen,

such men it seems,
will see only pain it seems,
until of course,
(and here the mirror smiles)
a new chick will come across his course,
an he'll wash his pain,
in her sweet caress,
and to his gain,
she'll present her caress,
to be subjected to a treament unknown,
something she would have never known."

And he feels reassured. And sighs as he feels the 'pain'.

And this is what the mirror actually said-
"To men who know,
only to own,
and to value has never been who's forte,

who have seldom thought,
how the other might feel,
and to value has never been who's forte,

to men who know only themselves,
and who see others as property of selves,
and to value has never been who's forte,

who see the world,
through self-coloured glasses,
so that superimposed on everything in the world,
they see themselves through such glasses,
and to value has never been who's forte,

such men it seems,
don't deserve themselves,
and one must discount the possibility it seems,
that somebody in the world might deserve such balloons,
who inflated with their own air,
just see themselves,
in front of even a whit of air,
and to value has never been who's forte.

You've done enough dude. Now, you must stop."