Heaps of sorrow has given man’s life a form of plateau
Neither are they expressed or possible
Man is never alone as he conceals
The sorrows with a veil of silence.
But man is alone with his sorrows
As his life melts away
In the silent roar of unwilling death and unfulfilled dream.
Man is simply alone
Happiness comes in jet speed
And disappears like a dew drop in the sun.
The Spirit of “failures and undone” throws him
In the lake of regression
Our crippled senses crawl
On the shell of senseless greed.
The earth for which I am longing for years
It is now painted in blood.
The conspiracy of war prevents the flowers to be bloomed.
Inhuman atrocity has stopped the symphony of life.
Added thousands of wings for flying swiftly
To the End of Civilisation.
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