• chophy 9w

    And the world has it made
    the tasks he is to maid
    Grappling each day's dirt
    So they are less a girt
    He braves through, a man.

    If it be lord or menial
    He is to be genial
    Scorched under the sun's rays
    lest he is mired by the crowd's ways
    Poised he traverse, a man

    But if to save the Lord died
    For a new life, the woman labours
    The mermaid for a pearl sheds a tear
    Call it tragedy , a man's trial
    To live he is to labour.

    Such is his fate , otherwise circumstantial.
    A day's unsettling sight he wrestles at night .
    To him it is a burden till he is driven.
    For he dictates if the freights weigh him down
    Or he rises so as to own.

    ┬ęchophy