In my youth days I dreamt of being whoever I want;
But I guess as time goes on Nature decides who you be;
Filling ourselves with hope is all but noble feat;
And fulfilling them is nothing but Divine Grace;
Cos Men hustle as if there is Heaven in it ;
Only to get what we call Aristotletic citizenship;
The question is how do we change this trend;
Which seems to debase all our moral labour;
Man propose, God dispose; a common saying;
But ain't God our creator?
Shoulda guide us with what we wish for;
Hence keeping us from a reality-less hope;
Its Odysee, its Hades; who cares now?
Ain't all same old swings;
The poor works, the rich eats; same old cycle;
If only there's truly a compensation;
In my bed thinking who created wealth;
Life could have been easier without it's concept;
With wealth they say nobleness sprung;
Yet with it we looked down on less priviledged;
Maybe we shouldn't have invented money;
Cause it only butress being more insensitive;
Or so I thought…….
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