A child born into money, or a baby from the depths,
A subserving world still persists through the blue some forget.
Hoping to temporize a peculiar implanted twist,
Stepping on the shattered fractions that I forgot exist.
Blame the mirrored oceans, and blame the thousand seas,
A diplopia perceives to blur the shadowed enemy.
Odious wars survive the bullets, though many people won’t,
Trashing this mysterious place we live,  and we all end up alone.
Believing every dissimulating illusion, concealing one’s false power,
Forgetting when to speak, staying completely still while their insides are devoured.
Every malice is glossal to one when remembering their regrets,
Whether being a child born into money, or a baby from the depths.