Best days are never seen,
It’s like in life you’ve committed a sin,
All friends laugh at you, and say:
“You are not worth it.”
You choose to do right but they see wrong,
All what is said is song.
That incomplete song gets long,
To pester with deluge of questions,
We live with people who seek no reason for living,
But live for breathing.
“Hello, please may you help”
Is song enchanted for breathing,
We are with no sight for seeing,
Every momentum is life death and living,
No excuse for excursive depression for groan.
Hands in pockets for living,
It’s hard to live just because life is in demises,
Every call keeps missing me for living,
Wonder if GOD is existing or me justified.
We just live in dearth.
Every way forward call for struggle,
Every word giggle:
No prayer found in heaven.
We are broken for living,
Every day we strive for living than loving.
“That’s suicidal tendency” said my muse