Innocence is fused.
Innocence is confused.
Believing too easily.
Relieving too soon.
Green is the hue,
Of blissful ignorance,
Some greenhorn,
To be taken care of,
To be taken advantage of,
Humming tunes of regret.
Tones of remorse prevails,
And in equal measure,
To claim some dream.
Lies are swiftly mistaken for the truth.
Too gullible.
Too cunning.
No second thought to portend.
Didn’t know truth comes dressed up,
In various shades and garments.
Too sweet.
Too complying.
With a cunning fox.
In a cunning box.
A sole soul is sold for a song.
How sad.
Naivete kills…..

© Ayoub Mzee 2012



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