Man is always in the middle of nowhere With life uncertainties either good or unfair
Nothing hath he to do but to give up his last breath
Waiting for the same thing everyday which is death
As a prey to the world's riches and glory
He always falls in the world's trap in fury
Awaiting death penalty which is inevitable
Then realizes he the futility of his labour
His attributes are like a vehicle in motion
The less care he gives the less his durability
But still care he less about his non-fiction which is death
Which sometimes affect us with premonition
Waiting for mother earth to consume him Then only will rest be restored to self
Eventhough he has the fear of death within him
Still find he not sanity out of vanity from dawn to dusk.
© I@timz