Hocus Pocus has become my heart,
All it does, is a web of cryptic art.
At silly little things my heart melts,
Stones and pebbles at logic it pelts.
It makes me smile at the wildest of my dreams,
Creating hopes, just for it to burst at the seams.
Hankering desires haunt me all day,
Till I'm rattled by the reality's bray.
My galaxomas has become a habit of obstinance,
Becoming herculean to stay in one place at once.
The sundreesoro of the fantasies that make me smile,
Prick me as a hundred pins, rankling and vile.
The songs that annoyed me back in time,
Now it is written just for me, every line and rhyme.
The dance of the leaves to a gentle breeze,
Makes me do a dance, with my body in a freeze.
I have just become a puppet in the hands of my hocus pocus heart,
Just that each and everything it does, makes me an inch more smart.