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Families that cemented with malicious think tanks, kindling acid ruin my pious, pin pong red carpet under the control of enemies. The boy rolls from left to right to find his parents in a societal no hope for anyone camping in campus cultivating hatred.

The moon shining the torch to the blind people in the world, the gold of hope is in the miserable condition counting the cost of living expecting to salute each morning to live. My hope is in the sky with total control, where nobody is daring to snatch it from me.

I have been living in shanty town mingling with the birds as they sing songs of peace, because they are the only source of my comfort. I have been abandoned to rivers of thinking, blinking the red light running for help. 

Yearning to mastermind my success, killing rages in exposes the avalanches of dented ideas, to the city I donate my blood to serve the  jungle of fighters, I pay to smile; I keep on sweating to show solidarity. My tears are a torrential rain with symbols of pain to digest in hard time and to conquer the hurdles.

The resources belong to all of us, but shared by few people, the poor expose to nothing else except Robson's choice. The clemency sinking into the bottom of the sea, calibrating the clock, time is fading away no ideas. Syndicates of haters, and lobby into carnage of hatred, lute of thieves, world giggling devil and father of poverty.

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