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

The final bite burned her delicate tongue,
‘He is an Anti-Social, he must be hung’.
Anger and Zest killed my pillars, my passion,
Sword and Wailing eyes are deadly combination.
None were breathing in the barren lands,
Each time I was obstinate, I stepped back and folded my hands.

Slivers never actually damaged the palm,
Adorned bangles wailed over the farm.
I still was adamant, will not come to your ‘Home’,
‘What else do you have?’ he smirked from his home.
I could see the ‘stupor’ and realized my fad,
I admit, I was obstinate,
I stepped back and folded my hands.
okay