Trust starts to whisper 
As it's repeatedly punctured 
By using subterfuge to cheat 
On the faith humanity believes.

The blackness of the shadows 
Cast a lingering wallow 
They reside on the couch of life 
Procrastinating on the inside. 

There's a lot at stake 
When we tempt fate 
In hustling with our everything 
We become what we are meant to be. 

Tiny steps tend to keep 
Us on the road to victory 
Though slow the progress 
Many a times unseen 
Is better than contemplating 
What might have not been. 
 
In the hope of a better morrow 
Lies a soul scarred with sorrows 
Winging it through imperfections 
In confidence of their fiber.