The bovine smile upon my brown-skinned face

             Covers fear and anger’s boiling broth
You greet me as you blow upon your broth

             You don’t desire a genuine response
For many years I’ve sought the genuine response

             Of actions matching full intent of eyes 
But deeds themselves discern intent of eyes

             And feed the senses poisoned nectar
Thirstily, we drink of poisoned nectar

             Savoring the blooms that slowly perish
At different speeds, we all slowly perish

             A thorn of truth pierces joyful anthems
Sing lustily your joyful anthems

             Before last breaths depart my brown-skinned face