Writing this, in inflammatory sinuous paths,
Maybe, me, I am too ambitious.
Knowledge and awareness are vagues,
Perhaps better called illusions...
Even the strongest of opponents,
Always have blind spots...
But only a blind person can spot those weaknesses.

Is it foolishness to fear what we have been told,
Yet to see, possess and know it?

People never understand the chosen ways
Of perspective persevering life forms.
The ways of uplifting felonious,
I have seeing them malicious fiends,
They considering themselves as idols.
They all took some sacrifices,
Just to get in such positions...
Maybe them, they too religious.

Non-know about our sleepless nights...
There those who do not know no better ways,
They get cold and turn to be nousless.
Safety comes to whoever knows of righteousness...
These corners contain all types of predicaments,
That combine with our treacherous nights,
Into be some sort of amorphous,
Like somebody chose us.

Weeks back I had nightmares,
Stack with fiends in them trenches,
Sinking in them trenches,
Stretching for my dreams,
While dreams are said to be thoughts,
I dare you to think about pandemoniums.
Malevolently they want to see me breathless,
Inevitable for it to occur in any case or cases,
Or to contemporaneous in my dreams...

Solitary thoughts made me piously bias,
With all the words and papers I am pathos,
It is golden, whether it is speech or speechless,
Action acts with expression louder than words,
But words are stronger and meaningful than any type of action, acted,with any type of expressions,
Said in strangest terms..