Thoughts being messed up in the mind made me unanswerable to any.
Do thoughts overblown make us haughty?
I feel like one among the wind blown dry leaves, in a gloomy dark alley.
Where to I’m being carried away?
Am I deprived my own existence?
Does the flying cluster of skylarks have their own existence they search?
A woman in dark blue cloak makes me run, run and make do more of it.
She is my desire.
She is not letting me to sleep, Even though I sleep opening my eyes.
The slipped away luck of mine stares at me helplessly.
The Luck is crying.
I’m sitting lame hoping in the hope.
I see a large plume of smoke slowly covering me.
.
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