Behind the world of innocence,
Lies a gruesome room of fatal sins.
Silent cries and screams live in it,
Forlorn seeds died inside it.
The lame room tells stories
Of fears, weakness and obloquies.
Darkness had been a running stream
Beneath its walls of grief.
The rooms door smiles widely,
To every visitors that chooses to lie
In the bed of crucifying life,
In the weakening world of frights.
And there it goes…
Beneath the cold and horrifying room,
A throbbing sonnet plays,
as fanged forceps rips young souls.
The heaven cried and will always sob.
For every prodigy who passed the fatal room,
For every life that was washed in blood,
For every crumpled feet and hands.
The heaven pleaded so hardly
But some just played deaf and acted blindly.
And there it goes a lonesome elegy was written
On how abominated angles was denied by a requiem,
Instead was thrown in a box of murdered dams.