Life is nothing but tapestry art of time
The struggle's line, the bounce back's chime
The Poetry of eternal soul with no rhyme

It takes a man over the moon
Sometimes forces him to howl over unavoidable doom
Sometimes grants liberties over'n'over
Sometimes separates open doors from eternal possibilities for forever
Sometimes it bestows chaos for the free
Sometimes makes up a spring in valley of hearts, blossoming a beautiful tree
This audacious silence speaks volumes
This alluring vivacity with only burning spirit and wrestle fumes

For the life given to me
It is bunch of flowers and sharks stitched in impure soul's sea
Hypocrites left me here thought provoking
Tore my affection into scraps, never harboured feelings kept without docking

It is a wonderful piece of fashion
It is a geriatric living end of his session
Nothing but a blonde cup of dark coffee
Here is me, gulping it down, thinking it's tea

Spring of this life has never been gained
Autumn, perpetual in my living spirit, never waned
Erratic world of mine lacks epiphany
Spells of this vicious life goes round'n'round like a symphony

This life of mine is tiger in the zoo
Want to emancipate but can't, and then it's true
Me in my own life is fume of burning tea
Even has potential to energise someone, but it's wasted for free
My actions are exactly 'k' in 'knew'
Hahaha, present there but strictly has no value

In this brio, I want to have few alters
Want to pick away all the feeling defaulters
Life is only one and hence you
Utterly depends on you, if wants exhilaration or a cavity full of tear's dew

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