The world is a veritable Hell,
For fools with defective tools,
They will never feel surely well,
As they have not peace that cools,
Noble ideas, they will easily cancel,
By violating grossly living rules,
Thorn, they will pluck, not flower,
Torn heart, they will have ever,
Born are such fools every hour,
They will sadly miss every chance,
By having a vacillating doubt,
Their efforts they won't enhance,
But, soon to fate's bowling go out,
To the tune of worry, they will dance,
And helplessly at God they will shout !
M V Venkataraman