With a backdrop of water,
a cry is withheld.
Is it madness or love,
sickness or rebel?
Pathways like these are a danger to tread,
minefields, battle, here many have fell.
I bet you, you’re wrong. Looks are just there,
This course don’t go, not safe, to Hell.
He was greeted by the filters of morning
Inclining, they met a gaze, hungry.
One gave to billions, He only begged to be fed once.
When he was waved goodbye his head sunk, life was no longer sunny.
Another reflected her beauty for one dark day,
The mock of shine was not found funny.