Don't burn, burn yourself in depression;
Make it burn, let burn of this creation:

A bludgeoning ball of your meaty mind
That could detonate, if not duly declined.

Only you're not in the caliginous cave
All sustain storms, though not brave;

Still they steer, and stitch their scars,
And the light they've after such wars.

Days are bronze, silver and gold, wait,
And trust your destiny, a faithful mate,

What wealth to your waiting it brings,
And your scattered joys it again strings.

Don't burn, burn yourself in depression;
Make it burn, let burn of this creation.