Lost in thoughts, carried away by wounds and mysteries of life yet consumed by hope that my story could be different. I’ve got to act and play differently, both sweet and sour the wounds may be. And trying hard to paint the wounds and change the story, passion is the only friend that sticks with…
Life is like a fair raceWith unique finishing linesEveryone has a pace When the breath seizeTears can’t reviveThe heart stands at ease The journey is briefWe just can’t bear The impart of grief Our questions unansweredOur faiths get shakyThe void is uncovered Thought of the voidEveryone could avoidBut who will fill them It only hurts…
Sometimes I wonderMost often I ponderWhy do we chase life?Something we don’t knowSomething that existed before us From our mothers’ wombWe came bare, with empty handsOur lives are just but shortAnd we shall return bare Why do we struggle?Amassing wealth, money, powerChanging our skin colour, struggling to be seenKnowing that we are stewards and not…
No one is born with a silver spoon in the hand but honestly hailing from a poor background is frustrating and traumatizing.