The chips are down and the world seems brutal.
Conspiracy theories know no equal.
Like misery is dictated
suitably orchestrate
And Gods chosen to be educational.
Now that would seem pretty unfair.
With the cupboard of joy already bare.
And if destiny sees fit
to squeeze the joy limit
Maybe next they'll ration the air.
Are there any lessons worth learning
apart from coping with all the churning.
'Tis that adversity and trouble
always seem to double
If faith and hope become notions sans meaning
There lives on a lady in Ranchi
often prone to getting quite edgy.
The lack of occupation
fueling her frustration.
So cribbing becomes alternative therapy
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