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Alas, the long awaited warlord arrives
Dressed in promising attire,
Wearing hope like a battle gear
It gently lures us to a blind date .

With lots of hopes, wishes and dreams we yearn to fulfill our burning desire to live.
From blood to fetus we all are made to toil for months 
Difficult a task it is, but toil we must !
A race many win and many lose
A race void of equal fairness to all laborers
Many labor alone, Some labor in twos, Others in threes and fours and a few in numbers close to tens 
Some labor for weeks and are sacked before they meet life
Some toil and toil and eventually leave after kissing life once
A few who are lucky, toil for nine months, meet life in good condition and continue to search for answers till death finds them first.
The gift of air is given at the ninth month to successful laborers.
For many who received this gift, death became an apparition.

Life doesn’t treat us equally yet
We fight to remain laborers in the hands of life
We flee when death beckons 
To present us with crowns as kings 

Even though this warlord’s company settles for just anything,
You find out you are made to lick the fire and dance in the ashes of every bridge you burn
And constantly you are made to watch your past overrun your present as you seek the future
Cuz’ at every turn you’ll find a hand stirring your past 
Leaving you to linger in the dents and wonts of your heart 
Wondering what the future holds.

As unfair as this warlord is, its laws favor only the gender with a long gun in between their thighs, 
Daily this warlord force these laborers to deal with the inner turmoil of doing what’s right or wrong.
For some the warlord allows freedom for evil
For others it punishes them for the thought of evil using a permanent supervisor named “conscience“

One wonders why the permanent supervisor only moves with selected few
And why death is an equal pay for all.
What happens to those who hunt humans in place of animals?
Oh! I learnt.
That death was the only fair master who paid all laborers equally.

And wait! 
Did they call life after death “the underworld”?
How come rebirth truly exists?
How come no immortal ever told us mortals the story of the underworld? 
Why does everyone clamor for this unfair warlord when the fair master hungers for laborers?
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