Pride An air of pride suffocates the living soul from within, It tempers with honesty and other human virtues, Leaving the good behind and the bad to stay. Pride possesses the rich, Ranking one in a sky level of clouds, Filled to the brim, It’s a full glass of inner boast. Pride is like the blood that runs in our veins, Similar to the soft brown earth that spreads under our foot, Natural it is, Humble it is not, Pride is part of the mind’s un-awareness in thought India Halsted
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