There is a right place for dreamers
To scatter a pinch of their silver dusts
Over their words of real intensity
Away from a way too cluttered universe
Of the ones who crave for glory.

This is the right sphere
To fight against our beguiling demons
And knock them out of our lives
And silently bawl when they hit us
Dodge the attack of a million knives.

This is the haven of the wildest cries
Of a thousand lies from cursed lips
Burning souls from awful twists
Winging life out of the least
Becalming rhymesters’ shaking fists.