Fence round the soul

The cynical fellows have a hollow within
Sadistic pleasure they derive out of mocking
They wear some blinkers and biting quotes
And a dragon tattoo that suits them the most

Trenchant tone mitigates their bare soul
Razor sharp tongue that has tasted the sweet fire
Often they hide and love their puppies
Human traits perhaps are not for this

The bitter taste of the sweet nothings
The meek inner of the killer eyes
They love to hurt with acerbic remarks
Coz in them, they hold and hide!

Strong instincts for absurd talks
Gives them an edge to rule the lot
Their punchy ripostes sure are terse
Hitting hard they soothe their soft inn

Sarcasm is the outcome of sorrow
Liberating their past into tomorrow
Dried rose are kept in their books
And yet, every time the thorn pricks…