Why are humans judged for their past?
If it itself, at a point, ceases to last.

All we have today is our presence.
Why can not we all be as ecstatic about it as we are while opening presents?

Yes I've made a decision that's fucked up more than one or two
Who made you the judge? Who are you?

If God gave me another breathe today to see a whole new world.
Who are you to call me absurd?

There must be reasons,
That we all bear witness of these changing seasons.

If he believes in the propensity of one to change,
Why do you and I have doubts left to exhange?

If he did not think I'd be true?
Why would he give me the day so new?

So before we start belittling the world for being this way.
What does your own mirror say?
Is it pulsating with radiance?
Or does it sit there like a clairvoyance?

Before we begin to shun the humans that we surround,
It is time to come around.
To hear the sound,
Of our soul which is hellbound.
To make us turn around.
Asking us: 
“Why dont you stand your ground?”

Start today!
Look no other way.
Fuck what they say!
Become a propitious lump of clay.

They should fear you,
Do not stop once they begin to cheer you.
Cause that’s when we lose our avenue, 
When we see a standing ovation by a few.

To the haters, pay no heed.
Run till you feet bleed.
Seige,
This war that you breathe.


Day 1,
the start of your battle.


On Day 2 ,
you see your astray cattle.


Come Day 3,
you begin to rattle.

Asking yourself,
“Isn't it better just whinning in my cradle? 

To which is I urge you to go the extra mile,
End every minute, hour, & day with a smile. 
It will be while,
But upon the last moment,
You would not be the one they call senile. 

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