Shits on a mission

A day has started,

With it, evil birth;

The horizon has cleared

with it. glaring sunshine.

I see humans under an umbrella,

under which evil manifest.

There souls hence suffers

But blames are always churned.

Shit happens, they say,

A season when ill-luck prevailed.

But shall we turn our eyes away,

From the very obvious,

Pretence ascending a hilltop of fame,

Lies shrouded in ample accolades,

So, that they worship,

Assuring it a bath of glory,

Hence lies shits in our eyes,

Golden lit to public delight.

But where hides the precious senses of the commoners,

That earns them an iota of sanity?

Blasphemy in an atmosphere of decadence,

Virility in a brimming tray of nourishment.

The shit  is yet here.

Mopping sticks and brooms strikes persist yet.

So when heroes rests in shackles,

and admonishing lips in scurvy arrests.

In such silence prevalence,

Idiotic voices found strength,

And the innocents souls,

They hence torment.

We discovered this shits left seedlings,

Now they exist as fruiting bodies.

Shall we not find a last gasp?

A final desperation to clear these messes.

These shits just don’t happen,

But dwells on a terrible mission,

to plague the world with an evil scourge.

Of men with bracken hearts,

And their souls of hellish bound.