I feel the pain..
When i put me in her..
The pain and anger..
Faced when in danger..
I feel sorry for this filthy government
Who sleeps..
When all her weeps...
I hope i could have done something
But nothing can change only a think..
I feel distressed when i think of her
Only 23 and gone forever..
When i put me in her..
I think of all the dreams she lost..
We say.. rapists should be hanged to death..
But what about her plannings..
That turned no where..
She is gone..  with tons of remorse
We can do all is fight for her justice
Maybe she was the chosen one
Whom god wanted to show all of them
That animals still exist on earth..
And some human take in as their birth..
With her last words..
She wanted to live..wanted to marry
Wanted to get what everyone merry..
But we just feel sorry..
Because its the part of our being the her
Please people stop discrimination
Its our nation
one for everyone...

I come from a meeting,
still stressed,
plannings and deadlines,
in my head.

Staring at the onions,
which look like they bake,
ten times slower,
as usual.

You come in,
with your big smile,
touchy hands,
and a mouth ready to kiss.

While turning the onions,
you come behind me,
try to hug my stressed body,
and fill it with joy.

And then,
the defrosting process begins,
bit by bit,
you patiently wait.

You patiently wait,
without comments,
without complains,
till I am unfrozen again.

Who now,
Can say
They can own the very hour, and day
With you Agenda
With you Agenda

A plan
To conquer the lands
Expand this man
We can own the very second, time made by the grand Divine
With you Agenda
With you Agenda

It is more the a plan; a goal to keep.
My dreams do weep without you Agenda.

Actions next, but plannings first, that's why we have you Agenda.. you Agenda.

My forte is putting thoughts on display like a portrait
Life’s exposing poor traits that people portray and cleansing poor tastes like sorbet
When I push pages with my blunt blade I upstage it’s abrupt changes if you got a good name off an upgrade
I keep firing down my targets like a gun range
I no longer associate with bitter terms I just hold and wait... to drop bodies from my desk like Mr Burns
In written terms
With rhythm added
Brilliant nerves
All systems crashing
Critics are cryptic just to crispen their cash in
It leaves my vision in fractions like there’s a chip in my glasses
You’ll shock yourself if you thinking is static
Progression is winning in practice
Synonyms are encrypted patterns
The devils in the details like criminal plannings
Keep these deep thoughts about
It is criminal plannings because they’re always tryna draw me out
I’m pulling ahead but I ain’t pouring stout
This path of mine is spent thinking in silence like a mastermind
In life it’s either mass or mind
It’s rare to have both like hermaphrodites
I’m the iron type
Explosive
Dynamite
This is the biopic thriller of the psychotic killer
Passed out he thrives off the liquor
The taste is so bitter
Why do we bicker
Argue over twitter over which girl is fitter
please start thinking bigger
Life goes on and we can’t stop the time it isn’t a race either but you always cross the line
That’s why I ostracise
Even though I need to be occupied
Only got a dozen choices like pocket dice
These guys stop and hide
So on and off like office lights.