I recognise this turbulent storm that has again desolated me and robbed me of my pith, and, perhaps will make me squander on the trifles. It seems like nadir of my futile existence has arrived yet again, but this time its gravely prudent. Although it overwhelms me to have to be the one blessed with such mysterious cant of sociopathic sermons, but heart prevails over the mind, and i get destitute of reasonability. Frivolously i allow myself to be swept away in this chaotic order, for i deserve to be the one shriven in absolute hostility. My confessions are there to be seen in midst of my eccentric innuendos onto you, and as for my penance, I uphold my tears to be all chimera. Haven’t I hoped to be withered away and merge into what can be called an allegory, then why is it that I hang onto such an inessential, called by many names, but I would prefer ‘AMOUR’!
