Like a trickster life plays the hoax and we do nothing but spectate, the summer of 2009 has changed my opinion on one too many things. Your poem connects two ends of life, it starts with life and then touch and love and hate and ego come in and then the poem ends again with life. The difference lies in the beginning and the end of this poem, the birth and its death. In the beginning (after birth) there were so many things to connect to but at the end (at death) there was nothing, no hands or heart no luck or vices. Life remained the same; the realm changed. We just need to know what are the best pieces needed to complete this puzzle called life. Good work bro!
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