There's no honour

The world has no honour for your striving days.

Tears are weak to tell the pains
That world, a place that drains
All the misery encoded In tears
And organized in numbered years.
Every hiccup is a sign and tale
To tell where fate stabs but fail.
Every enigma, a blessing
Written on watery dreams in raining
Night and stormy mare
With a lost infant left unbare.
Every wrinkle is a chain
That yanks the youth into pain.
Love is a battlefield where none wins,
Even romeo and his juliet with less sins.
But every sorrow is from the root,
Where love starts to sprout.
It's a graveyard that a fool sees and mock,
And it's that which the wise sees and slack.
The eye is weak so the knee,bend,
The eye to cry with no water to lend
There's no memory just illusion
Of the life we want, but fading in a vision.
The world is a concoction
Of misery, with unsettled rumination,
The wise scared, uncertain,
Fool wise and certain
There is no honour.

Author's Note

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