| Tuesday, June 24, 2008
| On a Cynical Note
|Today there is no window,
Beside which she can sit though,
There is a thin film of rust,
Covering concocted mysteries in dust.
The past was a mixed phase,
In neglect and some laze,
Yet things seemed to be fine,
As there was hope forever in mind,
A hope to outshine and knockdown the world,
A world which never saw her strength,
And dwelled on the weaknesses that never meant.
And the day did finally come,
As she smiled at all that was done,
Yet a skeptic world was there,
To forever oppose her way and bear,
Contemptuous grudges against someone so rare.
Today the world is the same,
But she has swelled in fame,
For those who managed to notice,
Her ambition and talent though this,
Shall forever be regarded in time,
For an ability that is in a few,
Of gratitude and appreciation, nothing new,
Can earn respect the way they do.
Yet the world shall remain the same,
And always dwell on the popular name,
Being a critique to the poorer man,
And praising the rich for buying more lanD,
Land to extend industrial happening,
And kill an earth's sole living,
Who should care anyway?
The world shall forever remain the same.
|posted by bereaved vendetta @ 12:44 AM