when the tempest comes with dismay.
and there is no hope to delay.
It's Like a flowers crush by the turmoils of men.
Life is a bloody son of pain.
We bask in the knowledge of a glistening future.
but even the certainly of today is like the coming of the rainbow.
The ingredients of sorrow.
are like the burning embers of Pandora.
There's a shower falling in the mystic
But it's like a plethora of evil hugging our very existence.
We live in tommorow, to die yesterday.
It's like an avalanche of darkness creeping into our very essence of our existence
The ingredients of sorrow.
Comes with promises, a life of vain vanity.
It's like an insane epiphany.
It makes you want to touch the sun.
But forget it's burning tendencies.
It makes you feel like a bird in the sky.
But you're a man without wings, languishing in the grave.
Sometimes, you've lost the urge to feel fatal pain.
The rain is coming, but yet your soul still scorches like the plains of Pluto.
You are a cauldron of words.
But the stinging vibration in your throats has killed your anticipation of tears.
The ingredient of sorrow.
are the kleptomaniac memories who reminds us of agony.
It takes us back like it was yesterday.
We were young children with no chance of care.
But today, were baby soldiers caught in the war of Syria