The ideals that kept me going turned
out to be unpractical.
I got lost among them on my way to happiness.
The road turned out to be difficult and winding.
The ideals I lived with till now didn't help.
They just dragged behind me like
a beaten dog whom no one can help and
it dies on the way home.
Proud of my ideals,
I used to walk raising
my head towards the sun.
My eyes hurt like hell.
And then I suppressed the ideals
and never tried to show them to the world.
Although I suffered
seeing the emptiness of my soul,
I did nothing to fill it with something
that would make me happy.
I had no more strength.
There was no one who could
help me recover it.
Burnt out, I was lying on the beautiful,
green grass which smelled of my ideals.
