when I was a child/teen my backup plan was to go to my grandparents' house in Birjand, later on, for some years my plan was suicide/death and the backup plan was doing this or that tiny achievement in life, now trying to find a balance with the idea of living … my childhood backup plan won’t even work … my grandma passed away and maybe as Steve Jobs suggests that’s the truth of life, new takes over the past, looking at mine, I’m still in need for backup plan instead of being that for one … even if dead, I’m passionate, sure, it easy to fail in beating Hafiz’ poetry, but ain’t mean we ain’t wish to be the same tribe:
at the head of the tomb of mine, with wine and the minstrel sit
So that by thy perfume, from the grave, dancing, I may rise
so, being passionate if I had heard someone I liked repeating similar verses, I would hit that person in the face out of passion, but it is hard to not admit, my life seems so similar to Nick Drake’s song:
The chances they come, but the chances have been lost
Success can be gained, but at too great a cost
For some there's a future to find
But I think they're leaving me behind.