Posted in poetry


It din’t ask us
before it began
life is a neverending event
from being a spectator to being the player
life is an adventure
we give and we get
we lose and we gain
that is when life is a true story
we love we mate
we curse we hate
life gives us everything
yet one doesnt get what one craves
truth and lie, all are farse
belief or faith, all are ours
and what is left behind are scars
living is just,
a way to rust,
away in lust,
most of which is a must
time and again, one feels
does this exists or its all a dream?


I always try to think out of the box. i love poetry and hope to contribute my best to the field :)

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