Human is a can of corruption, Crowned by the glory of caption, A tool for peace is treaty, Moving towards a hell of retreat.
By isles of missiles, Is the world cornered. Asunder are hills and rivers, In world of feather and nether.
Religion is a curse for divinity, Framed in a search for calamity, The big oil of computer, Spills over the workers. With unabated breath, Humans throng to death While diseases raid the filth
From Serenading Poems Part one
