is it better
to be
virtuously
fake or
authentically
ugly?

delimma

I sat in the bowls of sadness
Racking the days back
Which appeared bitterly delicious
All was the melodious track

Of tragedies playing diminuendo 
This has been a trier of cricket
That left its crevice 
For a flagrant journey

In a beautiful thorn roads
In a laughing still ocean
A journey that brakes
The darkest still night

In between the land and sea
Seas with fanning gills of catfish
And roads crowded by ugly crocodiles
Betwixt light and covetous darkness