Let’s pretend that the world runs
Without breaking into twists and turns
We can be beautiful chapters of a thriller
And to the compromised mind, a healer
We can watch our sins melt away
Under the weight of an arduous day
Sculpting images that befriend the eyes
As tongues reject the allure of lies
Zebras can lull lions to bed
To deliver the wild from bloodshed
But this story is home to tragic phases
The world being a network of mazes
Sins toxify the bowels of humanity
As nature slowly sheds its sanity
Every eye prophesies a blurred future
While tongues rarefy the truthful picture
And the wild remains an array of disarray
Where one must fight to outlive the day
If only at crossroads would meet these experiences
What, then, would be is an antithesis.