Scattered Mind

Once, a man of many words,

Is now a man of few words

We carry God in the centre of our heart

But why do we behave as if we are poles apart?

What to do then, if such is the state of our art?

It is a dystopia, not a utopia

If while living we are in want of art

It becomes indispensable 

To realize that everything shows for itself

In due time,

Life is a lot easier with them by my side

They are my parents

They are my life

I may not be invincible

But I am undefeated yet

I think history will make way for itself

Whether I laugh at the final laughter

Or someone else has me slayed