That giant wheel of life grinds around us
Sometimes it's sweet or so sour.
A meld of habitual habits
A mixture of ash amidst flour.
Concoction of humour in sadness
Of chuckles in midst of the tears,
Of ingratitudes greatest propensity
In stealing those yesterday years.
I guess there's good in the badness,
I suppose there's light in the dark
But the factor that burns
In the hope my mind yearns
Is that bitterness drowns the remark.

M.