Beginning a journey with a cry,
a soul as if complaining to God.
Why you made a paradise ,
if it was meant to be lost?
Cursing Eve for her actions,
and blaming Satan for the act,
A soul gets prepared to suffer the thorns of life.
The more it lives,
the more it suffers.
The more it tries ,
the more it falls.
Climbing the ladder of success,
leads him into the well of anxieties.
At no point is it free,
from the shackles of difficulties.
From childhood it has been taught,
to fight for its share.
Adulthood tells him to kill happiness of others,
to grow its garden of roses.
To wear the crown of treachery,
and of adultery.
It teaches him to snatch the share of others,
to fill his hunger,
to decorate his throne of greediness,
with sweat of helpless.
Its blood still burns,
and with it burns the relations.
The relations with whom he was tied from his birth.
One by one the heads fall,
And he moves on with its head high.
Not giving a look at what is lost.
It moves alone in its journey ,
and finally is left alone.
No one to mourn.
This is the life of a mortal.
In the race of becomming immortal,
every soul suffers similar things differently.
The ability to face similar things differently sets them apart.
One outstands and the other dies commonly.
the gold passes on but life stops.
What is left is a few decorated teàrs.
Which too, dry in the heat of gold.
Soul is left wondering on the decorations of the world ,
that blinded him from the truth.
strikingclock 