Poetry moves me 
It's captures my eye 
It finds me 
When I try to forget about it
It heal and also restore hope
It carries me when I can't 
It makes me forgive those who wronged me 
And move on from the Pain I suffer
The words of every poem.
I write 
Is defines my endless cry 
A cry that was never heard ???

If you are not in peace, you may  loose many  things even god can  not help  you.

There should be a science of discontent. People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.

Here's to alcohol, the rose colored glasses of life.

Written By F. Scott Fitzgerald

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