We believe in sell-out dreams
We believe in staged madness
We believe in fake luxuries
And in spiteful jealousies
We believe in designed to deceive facebook statuses
And in the art of frivolous photographs
But we refuse to believe in the voice inside us
We believe in the extra cheese that’s promised on our pizzas
We believe in the overtly touching stories of Humans of New York
We believe that Modi is right
And also in the fact that he is a manipulator
We believe in the right swipes
And also the left ones
We believe in the salt inside our toothpaste
We believe in delusions served in high definition
We believe in expensive peace
But never the person who really cares for us
We believe in the highs we achieve
And the lows we inflict on people
We believe in the fancy cars that are beyond our desires
We believe in that 4BHK penthouse on the top of a posh high-rise
We believe in MacBooks and iPhones
And the message beep at the end of every month
But not the person who was there all along
We believe that we can reach the stars
We believe we can own the moon
We believe in the smell of success
And also the fear of failure
But we never believe in giving ourselves another fair chance.
And then, we believe in not believing at all.



Ranit Mukherjee

Lives, dreams, works for bacon. Prefers to be weird around people. Addicted to heartbreaks. And loves writing gibberish.

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