Another day died at the cost of some shattered dreams,
Another night nurtured some absent hopes of brightness.

Another sun set without promising any fulfillment
Another sheet of darkness dwelled amidst some fragile dreams.
Another tear welled up in the anxious eyes,
Another truth fought for survival in cruel lies.

But neither my eyes nor my beliefs have tired.
Neither my courage, nor my confidence has retired.
Mornings are plenty, hopes are in abundance,
And, most importantly, it’s not for nothing people call me a stubborn.

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