Those who painted their sky,
Who think they stole the night
And the inner side of life
...winners of an alibi
The purity of what is real
The texture… the appeal
It s the nature they want to steal
But it’s still a life they won’t ever feel
A DANCE THROUGH THE NIGHT
Usually they sit and wait
In their shelter, with jealousy and faith
Till the purity appears to them
Then comes the disembowel..
Even those who managed and stole
the purity of true things untold
those treacherous, lusty souls
who show the human spiteful gloat
They will never be like the ones
who purely, innocently dance
with the gift of virtue at a glance
..maybe once in a million chance
The nature of what is real
Is irreplaceable, is not for steal
Its imitation is even more fake
in this world of gloat and mistakes.