I have a handle on my breath,
Double the decades have passed,
Poking through the window one day,
I saw some children playing,
Hiding themselves beneath the branch,
And seeking the friends to win,
Our life is no less than a game,
As every sec counts,
Where we hide ourselves from the world and seek mercy around.
There I stood at the window staring the clean blue sky,
My hands holding the rode, for all of us hold our life,
A maid came to call the child as it was the time to go,
But who would listen since he was enjoying his to and fro,
Perturbed maid went away leaving the child to flow,
There I stood perceiving the sky, free but never low,
Chilled breeze touched my soul; I wanted to go up high,
Heaving myself with it i wanted to grow,
The child climbed the tree, he did not fear to fall.
As neither do we fear to fly up, at our world so tall!
Higher and higher he went, scaling the branches as he passed,
as we move leaving behind our latent, our endeavors are classed.
Fraud convictions are the branches, weak or strong?
Waving his friends, he puts his leg on the con.
Bombshell! He falls on the ground and lays there lifeless with blood around.
God gives us one chance to choose our branch,
Let it be your choice between valid and defraud,
Undersized ways we choose for new dimensions in life,
God ask just one question:
"Why do you always blame me for the edge of your knife?"
Concern your branch, for there may not be the other chance...
Life there taught me a lesson,
via my gaze through the window...