A leaf stumbling to stay ,
On the tip grip, of the branch.
Often glides out of it's way ,
By the strong stormy wind, which --
Merely the leaf's dismay.
Hopeless human, is the gliding leaf,
Tries to chase and subdue the blind wind.
Often engulfed by one's lone grief.
Alas! Finally the leaf spun arround,
And fell on the ground hopelessly .
Hope is something we get,
From the waving hands that help,
From the shoulder soaking in tear's wet.
It's where, you're mentally made .
It's a rope suspending, climb the optimistic state.
~ Mercy
