On my my study table is a manuscripts of year's gone by.Not even a year's has passed without moving round,finding ways to my problems,looking for solutions like a wind turbine.
To me it's reality,but to others it's an illusion.
Don't say I never tried! Because I did.
Every night tears roll down my cheeks like a river of high turbulence.
When I look back at my self! All I could see is a worn out man from an age long battle which never ends.
All I ever want is a measure of happiness,not a ware house of them.
My life seems like an hurdle, ringing it to my hearing that not all who come to you like your beloved.you can cuddle.