Presumptions and assumptions are but evil to life
To a rich man’s poor soul or a poor man’s rich eye
Such are the traps we’re all lured to
Some fall dead, while others find peace in graves
A coffin when becomes a dream to achieve
And the whole life turns out to be a bunch of lies
Whilst the ones that adjust are men
Others we now know as poets, after a life sacrificed
What should just one do when the task of puking air through nostrils
Becomes too heavy a burden to bear,
When the very air we breathe in stinks to an extent unimaginable
Such is the time when a man so senile falls in love with an after-rise
Then I don’t see a man’s wit failing;
When I find him surrounded by sin, superimposed upon him so beautifully,
That no Zeus himself can cypher he once was a man alive,
And in situations such, he finds solace and peace beneath the earth
For millennia unknown stars have strummed the fate of men
But some have immuned themselves
For a life superimposed, they choose no more
And all the human-ness is gifted back to those gods who never existed