12.11.2018-21.11.2018

Many murders and many crimes

Many intrusions in my  prime

Many wailing have I caused in past

Many shelters did I shameless blast

Yet in the inscriptions of times and tides

Often angst against self did I find

Often was me standing on self-condemnation

Often was I lost in deep contemplation

But with time, as I grew from dust

Often I wonder, if my heart caught rust;

For never in the melodies of self I sung

Was me innate down to rung

Many pains did I give to man

Many ends did I get in trance

Still above all, pleasure I seeked

Pleasure to grow and pleasure to creep

Pleasure to stand on the top of all

Pleasure to grow in strides post fall

But what is worse is that its bad

It's a frown and it is hard

But I don't feel bad at all

I don't pain and I don't strive

I'm in pain with no drive...