My life is fictitious, my life is unreal;
Its all imaginary to happen in real
It’s all wild, which would mess;
This all can happen only in dreams I guess.
Life is too short and can be measured in yards,
What i see in front of me seems graveyard.
All are dead and life has gone.
It’s only me alive and there is nothing to mourn.
It is ones deeds, that decide the way to lead;
You are in hell if you greed,
But if honest species like you will surely breed.
It’s the man, who alone decides his fate,
He either is loved or thrown at the gate of hate.
Bad people never have a good head,
Even when alive are considered dead.
It’s only good that live with reputation,
And even after death, god leads their way to incarnation.
Hope you understand the moral of the story;
Live life on which you never have to be sorry
This graveyard like life is not virtual, it real;
I am sorry, initially i called it unreal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem