When stars fell from above,
we were clouded with the shield of fears,
We cowered behind lost hope
and so life was filled with anxiety.
But who will be our remedy?
Aren’t we tired of the sorrowful song
Which is sung by our sour tongues?
Aren’t we tired of the melancholic songs
Sung to our eerring ears?
Who’ll be our remedy?
When pains clouds our heart,
Chaining the good and unleashing the bad,
When evil becomes the product of the heart,
Making sapiens wail at her dictates.
What will be our remedy?
When the pain cuts us deep?
And tore away bliss,
When we can no more keep the pest
We’ll be left, but to wander faraway.
what will be our remedy?
Then we’ll search the four corners of the earth,
Peruse through fountain of hopes
If there’d be any string or sting, if there’s none,
We’ll be left to wander in the street deranged,
Or lost in an aura of lost hopes.
© Modest King

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