Cinderella

We call the this enigma as fairy tale.
But devils are fictitious too, then why not devil tale.

Why not write fables of cunning wolves and killer dogs,
Of fabricated serial killers for kids, running around panicking about cockroaches.

About wars, blood-filled and about conjured treachery,
Satan’s works about corruption made to look merry.

Lust filled hunger of men and women,
To teach the young ones about how the world reigns.

Why not fill the bookstores about real truth,
Truth undeleted and true and not about fairies in heavens.

Pretentious episodes of massacres and assassination,
In 3^rd grade classes for students to revolt.

Worm alike nature would be considered a happiness,
Heaven then would be considered as useless and hapless.

The strength then among men would rule,
Women would live as the one among all.

The mind would forget the sensations of aching,
The force of sense would miserably held disappearing.

Isn’t it a curse to live life a fairy way,
Getting and doing things for the sake of producing infants.

Instead of thinking from the aspect of reality and truth,
Shadows and make believes eat us as brutes.

Politicians lie about politics, and a common man lies to his wife,
I lie in this poetry and you lie- that you like it.

Still the ones talked most about are kings and good deeds,
Why not make harder souls out of you.

Morals and ethics are just made up words,
When they sit writing in their rooms, the goodness blurs.

Now I must shut up and stop to admire,
And accept that I love to think about Cinderella.

March 21st, 2007. 5.04 a.m.