Under the bright white well travelled light,
We need the comfortingly cool dark shade to hide,
Which we call umbrellas of mushroom homes,
That saves us from heat and rain storms.
In the midst of the quiet beautiful darkness,
The fireflies flick to show off their greatness,
As they are drunken in the stupor of light game,
The contrast really makes the life more significant.
The hearts never see lights in their whole life,
The brains are kept sealed to keep them safe,
The whites, colored and blacks are working hard,
To maintain what is kept in the perpetual dark.
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