Passes by, this life!

When your own words stand by you, When your life becomes your dream, When tears remain with you as travellers, Life is a journey, Of imagining and immense duty.
We keep it for our dear ones, As a bouquet of flowers from outside, Incense of power that is broken, For then, you listen not, To what heart says; But what presses upon to material it's say upon you.
Suppresses and domination's leave the stress widespread along, Life is what life, No say in the levels of the throng; Our ability gets minimised, Our actions are mystified, Having no say of yourself, you are left to sob by yourself and then cry, It is life and a journey that like a wonder passes by!

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