In the twist of fate,
The weak die; the weak wail;
They crawl on their knees,
They blame the gods.
They genuflect to the greats,
and offer a servile nod.
They cry their tears,
And mitigate their selves.
They are Agony of misery,
Misfortune of whelps.
They cry for morals,
and the equality of beings.
and decry the flight
of a hero with wings.
They live in the world,
foregone and unseen,
with their trivial wants,
but unending needs.
They always crib
with smile on their face.
won't leave any footprints,
no trace, except their graves.
They journey their wasteful life
through the much trodden path.
befool their guilt and aver,
"these landmarks, everyone pass."
That it is the way of life
to bend and to retreat.
To face the life bare self
can only be a moron's dream.
Oh! but the mighty,
he laughs at destiny's call.
he merely tweaks his presence
and the mountains fall.
He bends the laws,
makes gravity fly.
Lives like an Immortal,
and let mortals die.
