Fake, untrue, unjust, detested and fallen,
All are just the devils way of corrupting the true,
What comes in between the normal rage of the fine blends?
The richness bound between the fine hit notes of the purity,
What a shame, leads to many more games, hidden under the closet,
Look up and taste the color of the skies on the onset,
Bright and sunny sights are easy to wonder and hard to capture,
All it takes a simple blow and the negative to rest inside the fracture,
Warmth, and the softness that we all crave for inside the womb,
Womb which we try to create every second for us and give ourselves room,
Oh, worldly saint, the sorrowed, the piper, beckon the bellows,
Paint and unrusted, all the things visible and uncover the horrors and sorrows,
Product of what can be thought of as the finest creation till date,
Open the dam, let it flow and just watch close and sit by the gate,
Control what you see and what you want, because at the end only you can make it,
For all you have been fighting for has been and will the perfect fit.