The smiling faces of morrow,
Rolls of laughter sweeping ‘cross the room:
Among the men of jubilient folks
sat a twisted gloom.
He pretends to have been happy,
He got what he wanted.
But, somewhere over the rainbow,
The winds began their turnoil.
The state of anarchy!
Oh! how he had dreamt of this day,
All these years of toil,
Enduring sickening, deafening hollow
just for a happy life.
A promise has been made,
that these will be over soon,
A promise of hope, peace and blossoms
Still so far from the silvery moon.
Oh! How he wanted to walk with leprechauns,
Sliding o’er rainbows and gliding the skies!
He wanted to fly since he could speak,
not chained to steady grounds.
And , then again, through the slimmest of fractures
gleamed a golden stream;
His face lit up with halo,
He could still make it.