At the crossroad of life,
Confusion sets in,
Story is once a tale that never tell,
Attention calls but focus lost.
I fall many times
Where no soul, not even one
Is there to receive me
As I sink into miasma of depression.
And each time I stumble upon the stones of life,
I rise and press on
You may castigate me with your lips,
You may carnage me with your eyes,
You may ink my history with gossamers of lies,
But all are in my favour -
Your criticism is my strength,
Your sidetalks is an inspiration
And my weakness gives me a haul up.
Therefore, I rise