Our minds are so consumed in the most unrealistic manner,
that we hardly get to know why our lives are so extravagant.
We forget the very existence surrounding our imagination,
and are disposed to the most pragmatic influence of our behaviour.
We tend to understand every bit of ourselves to the extent,
But unconditionally we have failed our own creation of survival.
Our purpose is not more than our observations and our needs,
whereas we are deeply bound by our own fate and conscience.
It is not possible for us to change every thought that arises in our minds.
I sometimes wonder if there is ever going to be a tomorrow,
But our hopes are no more then what we can ever imagine.
Perhaps it’s more painful when the healing is taking over.