Life is a simple play
Don’t make it mysterious.
All complicated words wrapped into one,
Make a bunch of gawky efforts and simultaneous grief.
Myriad mementos contemplating miseries,
Do no less than to future, humiliation and bad welcoming.
That’s what makes life a bit more tragic.
Profound insights of bad luck has never been less
Beyond reality there’s a world of debonair.
The creator of it is our thinking indeed, which is,
Displeasedly, restrained by ‘we’ the ones.
Underestimating deliberately against faculties of truth,
Has become the most illustrious deed of us.
Attaining happiness is not a big done.
But jockeying to turn miseries into fun worth a salute to be won.
We still live in yet, knowing nothing,
Rather cursing our own fate often at times.
Life is not so profound, many think.
But once you check you are left in yet.