I will make it come rain come sunshine
Dear pen, take me to this lands planted in my brain by the images I have seen on TV and in magazines. Elevate me and let me feel the breeze that a prisoner feels when he walks out of the walls of prison as a freeman. Bring me that joy that seduces the pain of labour by hearing the beautiful cry of a new born baby. Because I find the world as bitter as bile; I can’t do without it yet again, I cannot explain why it is such a poisonous gift. Sir Winston Churchill said, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life but what we give.” I have tried my best to live in this lines but the dark side of life or rather people greedily swallows my kindness. Because every time I stretch my hand out to help, I get a terrible bee sting; sometimes I have to admit that the very people you help are the same ones who want to see you fail. It is a terrible thing to think about. The first time Anita stepped into my house, she frowned, “Why don’t you have a carpet?” were her sentiments. “Yo