Where the good shouts from hell - Poem

Sitting in the Dark
Staring at the ticking clock
I ringed up myself
To charge up my righteous brain cells

Mindless hearts
Heartless minds
Is there any remedy for a righteous brain?
Complicated surroundings
Sorrow surmises in to the sadness of those fighting cells
Waking up the illogical devils

The passion of doing the right
Gets beaten by those vicious souls
Thorns all along
Innocence of ignorance wrapping their sharpened teeth
Into the tender flower of righteous
Is there any one to save this righteous brain?

Comes along with the shrieking sound of thunder
From the clouds of evil
The voice of the good
“Thorns are life, my friend”, it says
“Life is the devil’s dish
To quench its hunger of its righteousness
It defines its own philosophies,
I dine with it day and night
To negotiate the beauties of good,
He blames me for being evil and
I am in the devil’s well
Perplexed in my own beliefs,
I question the souls of world
And answer the good and
Here you come, my friend
Into the devil’s well of complications,
I still find peace in it,
In my sleep on the bed of thorns,
I am with myself
And I talk some sense to it
The more I talk, the more it hurts
An infinite mode of negotiation
Which runs with time
And yet it is the duty of souls
To question the action of evils
The day may turn years
And years may turn eons
While the battle of good goes on
And opts its sword of love
The hands of good joined by it
And Dine with me and you
So wait for the day, my friend
You are the cure for you. ”
So I plunged myself into my thoughts
And got up to face the faults,
I thank myself to the good
For the words it showered from a distant place,
Where the good shouts from hell to be heard.