A dirt in the mud spilled on a white garment of a true saint, never wishedbto be wronged, but played like a ball in a tennis court,it stiches the fate of tomorow with hope of resurection,that get a journey never planned to begin with a welcome speech of trials.
As it says, nothing pays more than a good name, legendary ti the fate of it self, held in high esteem, rated the best to be heard. No stains or bad to be associated with it. It like the rain rushing up to the ground beneath, fast as it comes you hid yourself under a cover to avoid soaking your garment, like a selfless being concerned about the actions of holiness , biught with dignity and trust for good values, that the lips of a stainless garment.
That what i learnt with my walk in time to realise that the best can come out of worst of places, a good name is a true heroic picture statiined in the walls of honors, never draged to a senseless doing but known foe rhe unbroken frame of it capacity.
When the eyes were closed and the legs crossed, a twisted turn of event fell on a once known saint, stained to the piint of bleed, rated to the bossom of dirt. Crushed upon as a kernel, pushed away by the kindness of homosapiens, a face of disgust you now will have, you bow your face to face your tomorow, held to be away from good.
It depends on you, it depends on how you want your profile to be potrayed, the track led by a bad peer or a track held for goodness.
Be wise for what is good for you and also remember to realise the golden print of a good name