false

No surprise, no wonder if this season,
Will put another crucifixion in the face of reason.
No reason on the cross if their poison tipped dark nails,
Will dig deep through bloodred pathways, but cannot find the trails.

No mistery, no puzzle if these empty undying days,
Will bring forth chameleons, caught in wretched tragedy plays.
No tragedy on this stage if the spectator's smile,
Will turn into comedy the web like game so vile.

No strangeness and no awe if this very moment,
Births another cockroach, a soul grain eating rodent.
No feeding on the heart rat crawls if the cat like mind,
Lies at that doorstep - hunting, while seeming nice and kind.