Every whiff of air
Breezes with flair
About the human affair
That has become a funfair.
As proverbial children
We allow blazing greed
To sway us away with blatant lies.
Short-lived moments of joy,
Is but a trail covered with brown leaves
And, ashes of ignominy soils the soul
With greed breeds the clutching terror
We die a death scarier, the fated tale of many.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 18022012