I used to be kind to people, no matter what but then few circumstances led me to be a bit rash; as and what the situation wants but honestly nothing helped me neither being kind needlessly nor otherwise. My face; well, it deceives me always even if I am kind, it tells the story of my wrathful heart and when I am trying to be the rude judgmental lady it declares the words of the crying heart. It’s like an open book which can be read by any stranger. Literally; people have mocked my wrathful heart and even smiled generously at the teary one but also otherwise.
But what about the undisclosed emotions shut deep down within me; hidden somewhere even from me? I think they are the lies engraved on my face; like the black eyes which do not change their color, like my puckered mouth which smiles unnecessarily, like my ears listening to everyone’s story, like my nostrils breathing in life.
These are lies on my face, deceptive lies, do not believe them.
PS: I don’t know if I am making nay sense!
Moushmi Radhanpara 
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