Each time I was obstinate, I stepped back and folded my hands.

Red, Blue, Green were never the option to choose,
I hunched back as my wallet yelled, ‘You have to refuse’.
Odor is selfish, it only sticked to my hands,
Incense sticks- stubborn, refused to be my errands.
‘Loathing’, ‘Defiant’, ‘Foul’- were my names in vernacular,
Biggest irony- My state is secular.
That was when, my home floated on sands,
Each...