Lizards crawl on their belly.

Lizards crawl on their belly
as a result of fate.
No one knows those the belly ache.
Are all shoots of friendly gesture rooted in the mind?
Or streams of homely smiles,
sourced from a pleasant inside?
Why should the hot water in the aluminium steel feel cold on the outside?
Why should a thing glitter when it isn't gold?
How do one live right and be sure he is at peace with another?
Men, like chameleon, the shade you see,
the shade of deceit aimed at making you the fool.
Placing on you a crown of thorns,
in guise of a that of olive branches.
Those same that lick your boot,
turn to bite your back.
Oh! How herculean
trying to diagnose the ache.
Rather see the belly,
and ignore the ache.