Such profound hope in obituary of dreams,
Deathly piercing whispers in an asylum of screams.
Preying on your knowledge, they will tilt the deal,
Chains will keep you bound as you admire the steel.
Please don’t try to wake up, we like you this way,
Keep going on the treadmill, we will take the highway.
I know you enjoy this circus, especially the clowns,
Once you peel off their makeup, you’ll only find frowns.
History is strange; it has nothing to do with the past,
It was just meant to be scars, destined to ever last.
So, what is the moral of this unconventional story?
‘It’s never to draw a portrait when your eyes are blurry’