The Race of a Species.

Constantly dyeing the clouds,

with colours of light morose,

The eyes dip into the little light,

shining in the nether of a unknown fight.

Sharp and tangy,with fever run amok,

sleep of many and ladles of an orgy,

hearts of the simple drying the shock;

Bold in prayer and soft in a squawk.

Chirpy and sunny, the ripples of calm,

carrying the sounds of the painted clouds;

Riding the words of a bouldered balm

battle the slopes of a predatory sham.

Faith in charity, peace of the insane,

broken in cries, united in pain;

Bent outside and twisted inside,

we are the humans lonely beside.