The beast

Just a poem

The Beast

1.

Two sides to every story

One wrong, the other right

Counting, then recounting

The chase of day and night

It looked like full of glory

Dwelling in tranquil light

Old and gray and hoary

With spots of yellowish white

Flat and almost looked easy

Can't read but it can write

Reflection of resurrection

Always stayed out of sight

2.

Sailing in murky ocean

The bleak heart of the night

No sky no stars, no notion

Of length, or width, or height

When we told the captain

About our haunting fright

He stared at us then said that

Can't leave without a fight

Burn down all the sails then

Hit it with all your might

Joining is free but leaving

Was not a chosen rite

Tonight, or never after

Must kill the beast tonight

Charge the rage with fury

No prayers to recite

Two sides to every story

Engraved in black and white

We have to break its glory

The beast must die tonight

3.

When chaos gave up to silence

No one dared to talk

The colors of misty waters

Looked like a burning smoke

The captain was confined to

His cabin beneath the deck

Sails were blown to pieces

Masts were turned to wreck

Floating debris in darkness

Of dirty black and shade

Vanished all the voices

Before a while we made

4.

Consumed we were and broken

But still, the beast was free

No clue, where to, no token

Sailing an endless sea

Lost, but more were sorry

Trapped in dreadful plight

Prisoners of a story

Only the fools incite

The fools who created

An illusory blight

Then were agitated

By its dreadful spite

Blind slaves of danger

Hearts without insight

It was never a stranger

That beast, we did invite

Two sides to every story,

One wrong, the other right

The illusions of glory,

And chase of day and night