With every passing day, I wear off with the worry about money,
Lying down on the bed, I try not be perturbed.
Kept on searching a suitable job, but I was failing for my own negligence.
I laid on the bed, with anxiety.
With all this, life wakes me up each day,
And love urges me to give, although I don't have money.
Seeking from God, an existence in this world,
Where poverty is a shameful offense.
Had no one to advise me, so I put my hand to my forehead,
When it yelled to give up.
Then from below, the heart murmured to keep on trying because giving up wasn't the only solution.
Fighting for existence was.