Summer time comes again,
Changes everywhere can be seen,
Except for the self who wishes to be changed,
Still waiting for it to alter itself.
Deeper and deeper my roots grow,
Harder and staler is the heart,
Engulfed in pride and ignorance,
Reminiscing the trivial past,
Clueless as before and heading towards the unknown future,
What a gamble this being is.
What is the meaning of this so-called purposeful journey?
When the moral is weak and when the mortal is a mortal,
So lost and confused, dazed and programmed,
Idiotic hereditary traditions, created by falsehood and blind desires,
I am now blind in the light, an empty vessel walking unknowingly.
Sadness and hatred, tears and remorse,
All will be waiting to be fulfilled,
What is this joke played unto everyone.
No answer is needed, this weak mortal is already dead.
