“Some people have it worse than you You do realize? Some have been through war, And returned with a fractured mind. Some have lost their home, their native land, their life And persevered, as a people – to survive   On this stage of grief, Yours isn’t the winning size. What’s your excuse? To squander your life? To succumb not to war, But this conquerable thing, your mind?”   If I had been to war, it would be justified Forgiven, this fracturing of mind, that’s mine The journey

There’s a symphony being played on the stage Delirious, the audiences, babble in tongues That will soon speak languages Forsake your toys – listen on The symphony, like a lullaby Folds in a calming voice The note goes high And low too - plunging to deep despair Stays there for an hour, a day But always returns to the general theme – happiness Then – recess The symphony is melancholic now The violins scrape open the air. The audience – people - in despair. Look how they persev