_This is a path of the street to glory,_
_This is a path to haven of agony,_
_Tell me what the sight feels like_
_when your heart pant in a fright._
_The path to life is the promenade to peaceful death_
_The path to death is the esplanade to eased life breath,_
_I wonder If fate has gone on vacation_
_Will dedication ever leads to direction ?_
_Success does not relate with your background_
_Whether does the earth fall and stand so sound,_
_The avenue to life must kill your thoughtful clue._
_Success is right there in you but needs a rage clue._
_Violence is a path that parts not a path,_
_Nor is it the hums of figures that makes hard a math,_
_Violence is the depth of a wide sea where a wailing owl swims and get free if he could be a wise owl._
_For once I hear the wailing strings of a sting snow_
_and when I sight the sparkling light of a motion-glow;_
_Then would I have the eagle's eye and the owlish pride,_
_Cos' my feet are deeper than six depth who owns loser's pride._
*©WILLIAMS A.BELOVED*
*( FLAMEZ ALCIAC )*