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Shroud yourself in mystery, for all the wonder that it heeds.

Beauty and pain that I see, strolling through brimstone the world constantly breathes,

Tell me, the world that loves to hate, why is it that you blatantly block thy gates?

Running blue as the tides and swift as air...Still gifting nothing but a nasty glare,

Your knack for Imitation and conformity is to blame for ruin that seethes.


More often than not we neglect the once lively leaves in this lonely town,

Traveling unnoticed, not at all rapt with an unholy crown,

Slither along like serpentine shadows beneath all light,

Secluded from the puppets and towards the puppeteers that too heed the blight.

Read next: Inner Child
Mario Castelli
Mario Castelli

Merely a writer that sees the world through a lens of both logic and abstraction, that enjoys thinking deeper and learning of things shrouded in mystery and advocating for the silent.

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Read Next
Inner Child