Fans are make or mar molders,
They play with your esteem,
But are never a compact team.
Fans are less often shareholders,
They do not own your team,
They are just its steam.
Is life that thing you would rather swank about than talk of?
Then your fans would help you do the puff-puff.
They would help you tell whoever cares to listen,
That you were falling in italics before,
But that they think you are now bold.
They will not forget to swell,
That you did not notice it,
Until now told,
Life fans might not be necessary,
But they are wholly inevitable.
They might not be forward pressing,
But are still your life’s meal,meat and vegetable.
They always wash,
But not as clean as you would.
Their knowledge is always an adult,
Even when it is a day old.
In your success,
They do not have a stake.
Just like life,
They have not come to stay.
They are always seen in stray.
But they always have their say.
Just that say,
Of life’s mango you choose to rather crow about than pluck,
Of your unwise decisions,
Of letting fate to luck.
But please do not mind them,
They just think that since you are
They should be the
That since you are nine inches blind,
They should be the hollow block.
As if it is their right to always talk.