A life so lost, so much in grave...
The mount of a soul, drowned in craze...
The misery of a face, so much in shade...
A self at stake and yet so brave??
A conscience so moist, so much in shame...
The blow of guilt, withstanding this blame...
The flow of life's experiences, this vague...
Still no change, better never than late??
A stroke of emotions, and tears drain...
Dead or Decaying, and yet no refrain...
Is this just a phase of life, so mundane...
Or is this what you call, Mr. Praharsh insane??
