Tuesday, 24 May 2011

This world has no clemency, many
Times crusader had ransacked the
Temple and blamed to innocent,
The patches on the clothes were
Not the birthmark, injured emotion
Often sat on the court stairs to
Prove the honesty, nobody has the
Spare time to think for wet eyes,
I know that prosecutor, who
Delivered the long speech in the
Name of liberation, in the darkness
Numerous times, he sold the soul,
In exchange of few currencies,
The so-called messiah of community
Repeatedly hunted the lame
Herbivores, law of jungle is hidden
In the heart, the ointment of
Compassion has the dramatic appeal,
In search of opportunity his eyes
Betrayed several times, the patched
Clothes had some vulnerable stitch,
A fear to damage further, emotion
Preferred to strip it, this way
Of survival is reality of life, wounded
Dreams have no morning, they
Wait, perhaps for a miracle in life,
The daybreak on the beautiful
Aristocratic window, from the balcony
The landscape looks the paradise,
Beneath the tall trees, grasses are dried!