What is worse than when you die Is to see the you in you die It doesn't help if you cry There's none to ask how and why Life becomes an algebraic equation You set out to define x and y End up losing the value of I You can never restart, how so ever hard you try Your own self, it ceases to exist Your own soul, often goes adrift No pain, no fear, numb is all you can feel You can barely walk, when you dreamt you could fly And adding insult to injury Is the illusion of being able to write poetry Do I really need to sulk Or is it just one bad night that's gone by
Life is all about perspectives. Here’s mine…