The Wrong Claimant

I doubt this world
That all could be well like smooth valley

I believe no the man claiming
The end of another for his own purging
Or a town infringes the right of other
For its own maternal ladder

If there would be world
That would marry the simple bride
Each man would sleep on the river bed
Where everyone would create from a gene
And live under one paternal gin

There must be a time
When man of this land
Should treat the cut wound of that hand
Where all would eat in a dime

There must no man
That should send another to end grin
Anyone does so, should ready to account
Without cuddle or struck like royal pet

In the black out of the day,when night has slept
In its kingdom, there must not be a quack quack
But a tick tack of clock; only silence simple rule of oak
That could naturally take a lead
In the bedspread of earth's rest
Where all would have pleasure in their heed

A bad man who is praising may live free for years
But would regret when his end visits later

Let no wrong one be praying
But should be isolated and solitarizing
There must be no time for his sympathy
Only time to tell him is an apartheid

Anyone abets a cruel man
Should find time to dine with him
Either would become victim
Or become a man of his own demon
Like pretending lion to his prey

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