Self Talking Poem by Rafique Farooqi

i have to tell,
my friends a lot,
but they have no time for me
to listen,
they are busy in,
talking about,
new cars,
forecasting forex rates,
and obliging,
new beautiful,
assistant to of
boss,
i am to tell my sufferings to myself,
and busy in biting my nails,
scratching line,
on painted walls,
stripping threads from my shirt,
crushing lead pencil,
with my canines,
looking intothe mirror,
again and again,
my therapist, getting, hopeless,
and going to declare me,
a self talking person like,
a third degree burn.