The cannibal of carcasses

 _*The Cannibal of carcasses*_ 

You  crave  for the  counterfeit  countenance of customary specialisation,

 in the  catacombs of crooked classes in catharsis of dehydration.

Plaguing the minds, generating generousity  of all killer kinds,

Being the man eater, you have forgotten to specialise in human finds.

 Terrorising the tusk of tender eye,

You drool over looks and hooks.

What matters for you all is body baits and facial traits,

This is germanely a  judgemental stereotype.

Hunter of hell are looking to fight wars of wizard's,

Its like you are no more a man, but an animal who seek sabotage.

It appeals the most to you , to prick others by binary features,

Is that you hobby, to call all  people creepy, when you yourself are gay?

Looking through the mirror, 

Admiring the height, colour, toned physique of your gluten free diet.

Is that all good  you can be,

When you even cannot spell words of wisdom and mankind,properly?

Humans are so foolish sometime,

That all , they regard is skin form of specific type.

Beauty standards are deterimental delight,

For those who don't know any skill of clever knife.

Demons are hidden in their mind,

Devils are rented in their hearts.

No one is paying the passes snare ,

As all are sinking from sorry to silly smirks .

Canvas is painted all golden, 

But still remains white .

Cause when mentality is deteriorated deplorably in the deaf ear's of dreary life,

No one  can please the easter tribe .

 You call yourself human,

When you behave like the anthropophagite of appetite,

Who is hungery for carcasses all mighty time.

This is the truth of treason and life,

That men are mad and women are glad, but all at once turn out to become  sad.

Take a knife or a sword,

Cut your skin and let it bleed,

Feel your blood, is that blue?

Cause mine is red , what about you?

So we are  all same symmetrically from inside, 

So why to judge (wo)men by beauty of transitory benign crime.

Don't you beleive me , still?

Wait lemme  me do another experiment , this time for real!

Curettage  your silver ware ,

And pull out a bone.

They all are made up of same material,

Calcium  and phosphorus of phantom fibre foam.

So where is the difference?

In skin or in your mental mind of leisure and lust!

Be the (wo)man of merit ,

Not the pupil pleaser of body satisfactory and of corpse dreary.

 The futile gems of body prey and face say,

Are wide and vain to stay, with one human.

And not with other,

Anyway .

The peel would be plethoric and the zeal would exile one day,

When the wo(men) would die and the menace would sublime,

The dearth would make each one of us cry for the one,

Nobody ever praised  his/her grotesque glance of non existent type.

So, one day even the king of  kingston,

 and the queen of quixotic collin would fade.

When their funeral sage would play ,

with saga of adaging liberty grave in the page of wildest vindictive stage....

The page would turn,

And the time would fly.

As wo(men) both would surrender,

 their appearances in the flesh flair sigh.

The fallacious enchantress vision ,

would veil the human creative pills of longing times and rhymes .

As one arouma of airy lanquishment  would curse the skeleton of gally grace running time .

The paradigm is a race, where relics would rise one day from there grave.

They all would unite ,

and hold each other's hand .

Then they all would say,

This world is poisened   with the painful poise of panaromic charm day, damn!

 So don't take birth,

Don't come to this earnestly uneven earth.

We all were insulted and injured , enough,

And now you would be backlashed in this waning world.

So here you all came and there I went,

Adaging ths ephorism of mighty maze,

Cannibals can be cured and carcasses can be reared,

Only when the mental stigma would die and act would matter , not the way one appear.

Leeza sharma

3/1/21