Paradoxes, a quest of the soul,
Set in the purple flame,
A good name put to shame,
The chiseler played a benevolent role.
Heart yearning for true love,
Is mimed for fun and show,
The naive falters sacking reason,
An en route to grief and treason.
The heart knows not to see beyond feelings,
When the mind keeps appealing,
To halt celebrating folly,
Blindfaith, dense and unholy.
Broken pieces make beautiful art,
around-the-clock pinned with venomous darts,
Beyond love, the world awaits,
Back to routine at morning eight.
Humanoids, survival of the fittest?
No grief, no regrets.
No harrowing pain to deal,
Life’s a beauty with robotic zeal.
