The ungratified goblet.

A thirsty, homeless handicap,

finds solace in a drop of rain,

Dribbling along his throat,

like a pearl, it heals all the pain.
The sight of a merrily hopping antelope,

Dilates the lion’s eyes with hunger.

The predator after it’s feast, doesn’t set an eye on a soul,

Leave aside the bargains of a shameless monger.
The ever barren lands, crave for the touch of water,

With their cruel state, they still manage to give others their quarter.

When the skies pour their happiness on their face, 

They sink it in, but not more than their sorter. 
From wealth, health to inglorious stealth, we have grabbed, 

When even these mindless, virtuous souls know their morals

Will the goblet of our hearts beat for unending discontent, 

till it lies in the grave under the florals.


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