Black Spot

Life, thought, time, existence and imagination are mysteriously rolling into the world of mine.

I never know what happens,
And what will happen in the steps of my life.

May be I'm wrong to predict, or;
May be my prediction is incorrectly right.

Though I've realised my past, but;
I'm still running en route of ancestor's past.

The future I haven't thought to go,
But it comes as if i summoned.

Life's too sarcastic to be assumed,
There's no room for me to abode.

My blood goes down, but;
Eventually it goes up.

The time pushes me back, but;
I'm insistently reverse every single minute.

Though I'm with flow of my life,
I'm dragging myself back to the bottom.

My existence is just a sentence,
It's set of, group of, words of imagination. oh! I'm still beneath the sky,
And above the Earth!