Act is free like an intoxicated man,
Threw the console; now felt like the
controls aren't mine.
Yet whose are a man's deed but
his?
Hence, I ran away from their eyes—
For eyes can see and thoughts can
sprout.
I am afraid of the judge and the
whispers from his mouth,
As I have inflicted harm but know
no way out nor how to change.
I should be the protagonist of my
own tale yet as I pondered upon
reality—I am categorized under
the antagonists' range.