Bleeding Me

Turn my pages.... 1,2,3,4......... you will see the words bathing under the shower of strife and pain, are motionless, neither move, nor walk. Bleeding me can not sing anymore! How can a defeated soul rise above and soar? Smile and smile more. As if the photographer on the sea-shore encourages to put more smile on my sodden lips, so that the snap-shot turns up good to befit the mirth around. **********^^^^************** I was a revolutionary, protested against the oddities of life. Now, I have opened my fist and bleed! In agony my cells want to burst. but, all melts in vain-vanity. This is the age of Vulture! The Scavengers are looking down, down to keep watch on the moment of vacuum. Ah! none can win over the swift, adamant cunning creatures! The representatives of the decadence, inevitable and of course irresistible!