Rosy Glasses Dicarded

You try to impress by wealth or by health
I can see through your wickedness

You bring flowers or chocolates to impress me
I can feel the selfishness of your motives

You get a bike , set it high, give fake explanations
I can see through your actions

Your sweet words and your adoring messages
Are no more a miracle
I can read between the lines

Your fake pain , Your crocodile tears
Are No more a reason to love

Rosy glasses were discarded
And , I have known
Love isn't Love ... when it is for a reason
Love isn't love for sweet whispering and cozy cushions
Love means being there throughout for the rest of the Life

I have discarded the Rosy Glasses that I carried
I have Known the Life's difficult ways

Rosy curtains have fallen off
I have seen the Naked truth
I neither need sympathy, nor encouragement, neither support
From a mortal anymore