The Weak Still Cries

In the capital streets, flocked local sheep The sheep see right, in their whole might Like frogs they march, toiling like rotting heap When the weak no light, the weaked owns might Diminished are those days, when sure was tomorrow Agonizing is now days, sun rise sunsets alike Like terrorists we’re torn, by just a gun throw When the weak is lay, the weaked pet like At midday whereas, the sun stands courageously As the lowly yawns, toothpicks in lawless mouth As we open to smoke dust, and appreciate for Millie’ When the weak cry, the weaked laugh about In the same class we sit, in different inks we write As we limb to walk, wings they fly high As we rest when sick, they cry as if dead When the weak humbles, the weaked gambles