Lest we forget

The happiness making machine

Owes its grace/curse

To its blissful maker-

An ignorant.

Marvelling at the way

The self crucifies the world within,

Mistaking ravenous teeth-

biting radiant corollas-

For angels,

Some fool took upon himself

The folly of the world,

Spinning backwards

The unfaithful wheel of time,

Until becoming turned into rawness.

At a loss for essential parts,

The fatuous instrument of ruse

Works better on cloud nine,

Right next to seventh heaven.

Whereas us, the ill-humoured,

Keep looking up,

Left, waiting down,

To be thrown a bone of contention,

In the shape of embrace:

Happiness comes at a certain price of ignorance.

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