Too short to live, such is the life of a ratchet dog, hunted for meat for at last it ends up in the pot, the happiness of a man brings comfort to himself, for the glowing nature of all things can’t decide if it gold, a forceful smile in the mist of the crowd, owned by the ways of mankind. It can always be the dream of the lost shadows of comfort, for life has been a story to tell, and a diary too long to keep, lost in the sleeps of the night, scary hours in the dark… it send a man to sleep In the early grave on his bed.
It pains to see wickedness of all sort, in all aspect of life, we should let our kindness speak for us, for in a dark tunnel there is always light in the end, I can see the sun that rises and fall, so is the true dreamer who walks towards his dreams to play the trick of a changed story, in the crowdy wickedness of lost hopes.
Richly rewarded by the Heavens, sent from God himself, for we should always let our path speak for us, not bluffing under the rays of the freely given sun, for when you fall you don’t know when you will rise again, for the gospel says there is time for everything, always bring joy to the doorstep of a man cheated by destiny, always send hope to the homeless, always be there to stretch a helping hand with comfort to the needy, for with great power come great responsibility.
When you try to look beyond life itself, you end up regretting your deeds, error on errors, piled up for judgments on the last stand, we should be there to support the stars of the future, for one day their future will make you humble.
