Poetry

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Unless there is within a man
sort of a compass,inner guide
a pilot that directs annd leads
how and where to place or retrace steps
the pressures abounding around
will compel him,its path to follow
his will's broken
his conscience defiled
his feelings numbed
so,always without exceptions
in spite of himself,succumbs
for his resistance long overcame
his esteem ,long eroded
he is left bereft of initiative
he lives dead without it
it's hard to see the invisible
nor attempt anything impossible
The last chapter of life thus written
he ends up just another waste
in the gabbage dump of life.

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