The men who were born of fashionable blood,
Have spilled on the sinless pails of mud.
Those worthy of being unbound of vice,
Have lost their beam to those portraying nice.
Distrust pebbles of a commutable core,
They won't forever kiss the shore.
Their love exchanges and walks about,
Proving each man a quixotic lout.
Those who were cognised as own,
Might as well abandon one alone.
Several men of same serum be born,
Yet do not rejoice in each other's morn.
A class struck by swords and whips,
By cruel, feral, green-eyed lips.
And bondsman who ought to be loose,
Are forced by leeches to live recluse.
Some call for war, some call for peace,
But some give in and the wars increase.
And those who want to clean the blood,
Are lost in the pool, known as duds.
And none so good have won the game,
For here, the atrocious garner the fame.
Iniquity has become invincible,
Defunct are all hallowed principles.
Men can only point out stains,
And yet not cure but cause pain.
They're used to rising against the other,
Killing one and many another.
And many a men attempted to cure,
But the world was e'er against the pure.
We dwell in a severely savage place,
Where peace will forever be shut up in its case.
Men only shout and do not work,
No matter what we do, evil shall lurk.
People can merely conjure protest,
Shenanigan is considered best.
A face can always condemn the bad,
The same face will not eulogise the good lad.
The good is dismissed without a word,
And the bad isn't punished, people adding to the herd.
Many a men with a paper and pen
Might have written lyrics of sage-like ken.
All have sunk into an unremitting quagmire,
Or cremated by some brute-like liar.
The stark actuality, we can see,
Human Nature has ruined you, he and me.
We are no less than beasts walking in the aisles,
Malevolence has to walk miles and miles.
Devanshi Khetarpal's Other Poems
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