Some fight the war,
Some make peace,
Some create,
Some destroy,
And what a perfect fit
Like a Vitruvian man
While some left out,
To be brides of nature,
Nature, a possessive husband
Hates his wife to be like others
A man who loves to mock
the cries of his wife
“Her eyes should only be on me”
Says the husband
The one who contemplates
The ways of nature
Like a lost sheep
He wanders in search
For some questions
For some answers
That he never expects to find
But in all his weeping
Where shall he look?
To the stars that fade in the morning
Or, the sun that hides at night
All I know is the husband’s
Unfair deeds seem unending
While he treats others with humility
His wife alone bears
The heaviness of his wrath
Would time forsake Her stories?
Or would it be a gleaming light
Unto others
Well, let that three-horned devil
Say it.
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