Something that threatens our existence, our origin,

Every day, every minute, every second, all our lives,

Is something that lives within us,

And is deemed exceptionally precious,

It is something that is a conundrum,

Something that keeps us restless,

In quest of some sudden revelation.

It is our struggling inner self,

Our inner self that is full of tantrum,

And is ever prepared to crush our souls.

In our combat with the exterior world,

We are able to conquer and get pearled,

But that conquest, which we have with our inner self,

Always ends up in our humiliation and defeat.

We nourish an enemy within us,

That drags us towards self-destruction and self-annihilation,

Making us helpless and flawed,

Pressurizing us to indulge in conscienceless doings,

Staining our souls with the dark permanent paints.

We are never able to liberate ourselves,

As it resides within us slowly poisoning our souls,

Reminding us of all the dark paints we used once.