My history, my love

Love is a form of devoted soul as if
In the departed leaves scattered underneath
To glisten the light of the sun in the meadow
And the gesture of mind like fallen burnt child.
Love is disgraced where humanity cries
The sinners imprisoned in the darkened world
The street children cry alone day and night
For searching food and shelter in helpless
 State of fractured souls in the molten lead
Nobody is above the ground to come forward
With the hopes and means of survival in motion.
 This is the history what everybody sees
And violets in every right of the children
Who have no parents to love to remit sorrows.
 In merriment of the clubs and celebrity
Spending money and wealth to rejoice the day T
o have feast and gambling day after day in
Aftermath the study of the room where
The dancers and the gay in motion with love
Like the fake acting alongside the history
 Of the cool bridge flowing water in the lake.
 Every in nature love exists not in artificial
The work load being heavy or light
To be judged by the Judge hereinafter
No one absolved from the sins committed by
Who prides and distracts the roles of the chair.
For glowing in their own world momentarily.