It is the fate, it is the fate of my days, - every stepping raise its fingers to me: that I'm the culprit, all the mishaps all happenings, cruel or worst, - due to for me... due to for me; I'm irresponsible! my ill luck I irresponsible to my nearest one. But I do care for those ultimate blames, I feel for that, sad, sarcastic, burn. Whenever I think all are going to be right, - someone or somebody raise fingers with a blackish blame.
So emotional. So we can learn from the life and rectify ourselves.
ReplyDeleteVery lovely poem....... it is too emotional. I like the way you write. Keep writing.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ReplyDelete