Gritting his teeth against distasteful pain,
Imbibing objectionable spirits of his faded familiar bonds!
Breaths strenuous to swallow up like a lump of gristle.
Like an ageless catholic hunting down tracks of Leteng's remnants,
Hope becomes all he can hope for!
He forgets that he was born to instruct his seeds in a fall complete,
Wounded freedom stays wide-awake in his blunted mind.
Then unhurried heart beats; silent death sleuthing his wits,
But there is not much of a choice but life or death to vote,
With a steady glance, eyes clattering over these peices i presciently wrote,
But how much more must this words mean?
How much more must these words mean when the realities of life gives him fragilities,
How much more must these words mean when the realities of life gives him puniness,
How much more must this words mean?