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The ideals that kept me going turned

out to be unpractical.

I got lost among them on my way to happiness.

The road turned out to be difficult and winding.

The ideals I lived with till now didn't help.

They just dragged behind me like

a beaten dog whom no one can help and

it dies on the way home.

Proud of my ideals,

I used to walk raising

my head towards the sun.

My eyes hurt like hell.

And then I suppressed the ideals

and never tried to show them to the world.

Although I suffered

seeing the emptiness of my soul,

I did nothing to fill it with something

that would make me happy.

I had no more strength.

There was no one who could

help me recover it.

Burnt out, I was lying on the beautiful,

green grass which smelled of my ideals.