Sonnet 3

Never will we see the streets of gold,
Never will we witness the land of the dead.
This sphere of blood we claim to be bold,
It's really just a problem we'll never embed.

Never will we witness the land of the dead,
The shrinking minds attempt but always fail.
It's really just a problem we'll never embed,
Since the birth of thought, we've been stuck in the vale.

The shrinking minds attempt but always fail,
This world never stops getting bright with pain.
Since the birth of thought, we've been stuck in the vale,
Not all lights are signs of holy rain.

This world never stops getting bright with pain,
Not all lights are signs of holy rain.