The World is my Kryptonite. It was delivered by a Canaanite. It is so very black and white. Black as black midnight. White as white starlight. Hotter than a fist-fight. Colder than a frostbite. It tries to lure you to the fight. Being naturally impolite. Always swelling with pride and might. Soaring like a meteorite. Exploding like dynamite.
O, but it is a parasite! Warping every human right. Dealing every man-made fright. Feeding like a scabie mite. Destroying like a forest blight.
Yet it craves a ray of Light.
From it, I remain from sight. It is worse than any stage fright. A never-ending snakebite. Seeing without sight. Hearing without height. Choking out the sunlight.
The world is my Kryptonite. But parts of it may turn to Light. So its pain I will carry on.