the sick puppies

im sure i wouldn’t have thought that i want to be born to those people, to love them.
but i lived my life for them,
why do people born, to love or to be loved? i think, to be loved, one has to love, law of physics.
so why do i want to be loved? what am i sick of? have been suffering before my birth? or have i been fooled with the race of this humanity, where i dont know, what i am thinking, why i am living?

when i was born, i was just born,
some how my affinity, or my vulnerability told that you have to use a new name called as love.
and told me, subtly this what you are supposed to live hear after.

but when i die, i haven’t got anything to hold to, no people, no things, no memory too, and for nothing, i dramatised, romanticised , indulged in this life, and i found, or created a purpose, a meaning that i can testimony it?

humans, humans, humans, humans……, i…the sick puppies.


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