Its again a constant struggle....struggle for a gypsy's sould traped into a social body...
sumtyms i feel tht is it a curse tht god gave me enough(food,shelter) so tht i could survive..had i not had tht comfort i would have been a scavenger too...facing survival and not thoughts...
even a calm individual subjecting to traits of anger can get repulsive when held up in a prison..
And today i have no doubts about the mental prison doing the same to me...
the gypsy's soul is wearing off its spirit and the enthusiasm is bruised with this limited survival..
The strong soaring wings are tempted to rule the sky,,,but the clipped and crippled reality taunts the mere thought..
The wild cannot be tamed..
Simetimes survival is just not phisycal..its mental too..
And the slow prisoned poisioned living makes a suddend end of life more tempting....
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