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Can there always be truth in honesty?
Can a blood line run though dynasty?
Man’s life is but a dream,
Continuously creating infinite patterns;
Like an abandoned boat in the sea.
We drift away from reality
When our child hood plants grows to adult tree.
God is hilarious, Irrespective of his existence or not; He expects uniformity from his flawless heterogeneity, This is more than a jester can handle in all audacity. Can there always be pain in ignominy? And happiness in your success and victory?
Can you surpass life by simply dying? In search of a shadow to put our tired body, We are cheated with dark clouds – we are nobody. A looser always looks for the setting sun for asylum.
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