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A weary and angry pilgrim on futile journeys,

Plods through dark forests and old mountains,

Hauling heavy, worthless burdens from the ice age.

A wonderful world drowned in imaginary fear and hate

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Once a beautiful, unblemished heart now a pile of festering rubbish

Self-inflicted pains and complaints often a blatant attraction,

The loud, prolonged laughter, a poisoned spear

Everyone’s heart feels her venom through a whisper

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Memories of wars fought with cheetahs and mountain leopards,

Scary scars from sharp claws to a skull of white shards,

Left deep wounds to her chest and still fogs the heart

Evil she sees in the world ensnares her from true love

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Weeping and wishing through pattering rains and cold nights.

A gust of wind and hailstorm rattle the mind with thoughts

Leaving her eyes frosty and blind, and body cold to touch

The lull of a wind singing sweet, meaningless tunes

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Freckled with pains and patches from deadly punches,

She crawls plain hills with a heavy hunch,

Smiling to the scorching and dazing sun,

In search of havens heaving with unknown foes

Eager to abandon her only hope to the wolves,

The pilgrim can’t hear clash cymbals clang again