I hear the bell ring and your glorious visage,
From my murky, dingy lane where I have forged a home,
With cutouts and remnants of my trifling memories.
The hopes of love reckon me to walk,
Step out of my lane, shedding the insecurities,
Enter a shrine of refuge where my heart would be consoled!
But I heard it wrong and saw a mirage,
That alters at the trivial hint of disobedience,
And the loss of dominance, the shattering of power.
The bell was a death bell and the visage fake,
That lured me to your precious castle where the end lurks!