The devil’s raw stench.
Soul consumed by prison cells.
Free choices weren’t the matrix of his life.
Hence he tapped dance in the devil’s arch.
His soul is an empty alley hence spite came tumbling down his heart.
He regrets the prejudice of breathing village dust.
Because it’s shadow made him spit on the face of his morals.
As moon’s pass he is left to cast his pearls before the swines.
Pain doesn’t seem to yawn nor sleep.
Hence his soul peeps over the suicidal Ville.
As life cheats on him he has to stitch his wings.
Life came with it’s pledge and his soul is hugged by bruises.