May 20, 2020 2 By Roseullakarina Bosco


I never got if though humans lived same life,
Even with just an iota of a part- part link to identical fate,
I never got if really humans suffered same pain,
This lifetime kick-off that had become part of my life.

In some way I used to think I’m a prisoner of destiny,
That behind the bars of real fate,
In languish charters of lonesome treads,
I was that stale by mistake pottery that accomplished creation mission by default.

I’m writing word out of pain,
Cause today I feel like being frank in my definition,
I was once buried alive, neither for the mystical trial I committed,
But for my end in the grinning eyes of the ironic world,
The name error I became not wanted.

At six when the story of my yesterday’s ‘ bout death hit me hard,
I knew nothing ,not because I was young primitive,
It’s well ‘ cause implemented childhood tamed workings played me that,halt!

Life error, ‘ cause so much the pressure ,
The torture I suffer inside,
Trying to reflect my past,
Is as well the start of my brain tumor.

I meant speaking about that ,
That countable gothic soul in today’s time as living,
That dank lost personnel ,that by addition in time,
Crave for a life not perfect,
Their language so much of disappearing out of the face of the world.

Darn minds,
Torn hopes,
Mild souls,
Buried self- trial,
I’m busy being family with the unfortunate in the society,
Not because I became damn! Human,
But because our life story read from the same page.