There is a mis-direction that reeks.
Along the way of a broken road,
Lies nothing more than dying toads.
In a realm of dreams and hopeful mystics,
Appeared no fairy tale but a world of misfits.
That mind ignited by the slightest of pleasures,
Faced its suppression in the fraction of a second.
When all time had remained going clockwise,
None but yourself had started walking backwards.
In the pain of your illusions that never faced existence,
You lost yourself in the fight of your resistance.
As you were surrounded in a place full of barriers,
That toad came along with the hopes of a savior.
At a moment of ease when your mind fell asleep,
the toad was there, a charm you should keep.
Taken Off guard, your mind was liberated,
When All it's barriers vanished and faded.
That love of a toad was more than any man's claim,
And so you found yourself, carrying a stout-hearted's name.
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