Nasty World

Nasty World ballad

Photo by chudo.sveta

The innocent and lovely creatures are crying, crying bitterly every moment,
For their beauty is their curse;
One can not listen to the cry,
As it is disgracefully buried by the devils in the inaccessible depth of the secret world,
But one can feel it
Keeping all other senses open and active.
The devils of the dark world stealthily approach like the fierce hunters
And demolish the beauty and virginity of the innocent world,
They are ecstatic to enjoy the rustic pleasure.
Ugly minds think ugly things
And ugly hands do ugly works, but never lament;
They are made of such stuff
That they can not understand the dignity and class of the beautiful world.
The world is undeniably a marvellous place,
But obscene crimes and criminals are never obliterated from her core,
Which ultimately defames and wrecks her;
The unfortunate victims of the dark world cry in extreme pain and agony,
But are never rescued from their abysmal conditions,
Indeed, they die every moment
By the crushing effect of the nefarious forces
And gradually sink into oblivion from their nasty world.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

Jesus, Hope For The World

Jesus, Hope For The World short poem

Jesus, hope for the world Hope for the ones who are Tired and fearful and looking For rest Jesus, glorious and ruling With love and with peace for A world that seeking the God who will redeem and Bring comfort

The World Healed Again

The World Healed Again prose poem

Assume for one minute that the world was healed again,strong, though creeping veins and ventricles, unclogged their own blockages and once again it’s you who can sing and live again presume you are well again,and again ,celebrating the night and

My Father, My World!

My Father, My World! prose poem

Who am I, without the presence of my father? Who am I, without the support of my father? Who am I, without the mercy of my father? I am nothing, without the love of my father. All that I am,

Her Fancy For Fancy World

Her Fancy For Fancy World short poem

She is a girl of ten and six fixing her keen round eyes on tiny mobile of red hue In her fair palm, swaying dizzily on the busy pavement unaware Of herself suddenly stunned to face a scooty before her

World In The Brink

World In The Brink short poem

It was just News flash, nothing to be scared about. They were just News flash from a distant land; from far away land where the inhabitants were, well, that is if they were assumed as people; were thought to feel