In a life of sixty to eighty years,
You sense so many stuff,
The sense that includes love, jealously, fear,
And you go with that flow without any bluffs.

Some sense just affects you so much,
You think on it hundred times as such,
The sense of being tortured,
The sense of being ignored,
The sense of being alone,
And its all the negativity that grabs you.

In amidst of all such drama,
You also smell a good sense aroma,...