Though it stalks at the countryside
Crapping at the wall
Seems like a pathetic piece
Flaunts in the air

Nevertheless it's a crap
In the eyes of scrap folk
It's stick in their ancestral humor
Even the divinity is dormancy

But there are somepure hearts
Seeking for true complex
But the early folks doesn't allow
Them to reveal true beauty

The attirnity of Apophis
Is much better than a hypocrite
His scales reflect evilness
The same matter on a deceiver

Even kinfolk once reminds
Its all about blood routes
From to from , to and fro
They pour black vison

The happy face they present
May stain with stale inky
Maybe it witness many tactful craps
Seems like they are unreal
© afnan