Behind a person's success is a sacrifice;
Would you love to know the tale behind?

Actors and actresses preparing their act,
But behind the curtains there's a hidden fact.
Heels and shoes are filled with shards of glass;
Behind dress and tuxedo's there's a hidden blast
— Withal on the lights, they genuinely smile.

Let's move on and see the richest person alive:
They lurk abaft the gallanting suits and tie;
No day their feet cannot step on bars of silvers and gold,
Constantly crediting the humanity's sliver of hope
— Supported by government for the economy's growth.

Do you know someone born to be Einstein's child?
—A person whose thought process is unbelievably wide,
“What are emotions?” They frequently asked;
“Are those things related to a logical fact?”
Feelings are hindrance towards a brighter side.

We all know the people whom we proclaimed as leaders—
Behind the tall, wide walls they silently titters:
“Citizens are corrupted with money and blind rights;
This nation will never survive in a war nor in childish fights.”
Some politicians bought their roles, drinking leisure on their seats.

And there's someone like me— a bit higher, on the top—
Words are magical, making an astonishing plot;
Thy pen bleeds thread, weaving a wondrous craft—
Who knows they withhold theirs and other people's life art,
They'll keep going as long as the threadmill continues to spin.

Their tales are narrated a bit later, a bit little;
But that was a telltale with lots of missing details,
Are you willing to share the secrets found in the middle?

“Patience is a virtue.”

Sometimes it's true,
Sometimes it's not.
We waited, remain patient,
But there are times
It'll never come.

I'm a rat inside a cage, struggling to escape;
Unless my body turns cold, they'll not let me out nor let me plead my health.  
Squeaking loudly, calling for help, but they just can't
— If they go out from their hiding place, they'll reach the same ending as I am.

A specie that almost everyone hated— rats,
A four legged warm-blooded mammal hiding behind walls or below the stones;
Stealthily looks for something to eat: anything even a false meat
As long as there's something that can fill their empty stomachs.

Although I saw countless of my kin dying, not returning home
To our haven with a safety of a hundred percent unsure,
We still go out during the night, battling with the phantoms in the territory,
We both are seekers, the only difference— humans and food.

My father sacrificed himself by climbing the thin wire and fell;
My mother sacrificed herself by climbing the fence and had been stabbed;
My brother was just eating when a wild dog caught him;
And now I'm imprisoned in this cage where I thought human will feed me.

The world has turn its back on us,
Now I'm here, dying for something I wanted to ask:
“Were we made by just one God?
Or were we only here to suffer on this land?”

The night comes once again and stars filled the sky,
I'm breathing heavily, I wanted to cry.
But my tears dry before it can even fall
Until I heard ‘someone’ weeping with a hopeless call.

“We both are one, being imprisoned in a cage;
You're in the mirror while I'm in the reality.

You chose me first.
We spent and treasure memories together.

I saw how your eyes sparkled the time we met.
I took care of you.
I offered home to your homeless heart,

We spent hundreds of night together with each other's embrace.
We walked together, watching every footsteps we left on the sand that we walked on.

I care, you don't.
I just realised, I assume.

Your eyes never sparkle that way to her when you saw me.
But her, you do.

I let go of your hand that ties our fate;
I'll let go, but I wish you would feel guilt
And comeback to me.
I hope that's the reality.

I made myself believe that you'll turn around,
Chase me and hug me like you did before,
But you never did.

Rage rest, waiting someone to pull the trigger;
Shoot bullets, disturbing the calmness of the water;
Walls remain, few seconds it will break open;
Smooth fist earning wounds, but it'll never be broken.
Collision of the variables relieve someone— emotions regress.

Does calling me hateful curses lighten your feeling?
How pathetic I am to feel sympathetic towards you?
In the end, you are one of those who see me as a filth.
Worry less now, I'll rid of what was left in me.

Once upon a time—
Time I vividly remember,
I was ending my life line
Saying, “Lord, I surrender.”
Knife is what I hold;
Rope is what I grasp,
But someone has told:
“Don't let faith escape from your clasp.”

I was sleeping on a warm deathbed afore,
And now the weather changes— it rained,
Coldness embraced my warm deathbed.
Pitter patter at night is an aide to sleep;
Eyes feel heavy and so as my breath.