Some write poetry,

Misunderstood,Thrown in a corner,No can, no could,No love, no would,Alone,Who should,Go on?Pity,Those loveless ones,All Alone,In moonless ponds.Waiting for the sun.

Ah, the good old times!When Life was LifeNot just an unmelodious trance.

Till when,How much can we care?When broken by care,You become just emptyFrom caring, too much,With no place to go,No one to care,You stareInto the limpid poolOf Time,But there’s no reflection,There.

All the rest,Is useless fire.

Their own persona,Their own dignityEvaluations and valuesThat should not beTainted, by liesOr false information,Manipulation,And degradedBy, political BuffoonsAnd their frightful,Moral Stagnation

Become an artistOr love a rhyme,So strangeHow these are giftsYou’re born with,Regardless of who you are,Where you’re fromOr passing time.That is real democracyTo be you,And what you want to be,Individuality!For every human beingA great necessityWithout freedomWe are nothingSo if you know itGuard it,To the utmostOf your possibilities.Freedom is every person’sResponsibility.