It all commence like a delusion,
The world was spinning all round,
Fixing itself to the four respective poles,
I ultimately found my coexistence unbearable
The wishers starts to wish,
But their wishes never gets their wits right,
The delusion to own the world on the hand,
Was barely skeptic to the point of faithfulness.
Riches had their turns to rule and enjoy,
They utters, taste, smells for pride,
The joy of the poor is smuggled with no guarantee,
None is there to amplify their voices.
The days to enjoy wealth are counted,
Beware, the ever-empty belly are to be comforted,
Bones to stand and endure and be compensated.
The very best wealth is joy-is here ultimately!