The ones who make
the poison pearls
care not for whom
they're cast before

The pet becomes slave,
And all candy turns poison.

A good person is flayed,
Their skin worn by monsters.

Conquest is genocide,
you forget your best joke.

Refracting things past,
with a childs-eye-lense.

Would you learn, if none taught you?
Would you take heed, if for naught?
Of all your herd, of need you sought to
End the rhymn that time forgot.

The inner ear is almost always colored purple.

Who's on the outside? Who's looking in?

A person once set out to balance all things. After stacking everything on either side of an enormous scale, there existed two towering piles of perfect equity.

The person then stood to admire their work and soon found the gravity of existence: Below their feet was a final scale, weighing them against their creation.

There the person still remains, forever bound by fear of inequality and love of humankind to serve as an eternal counterweight to the fruit of their foolishness.