Golden is the path of which we all cross to receive for our good deeds,
Many have thought of this as a paradise or maybe haven but it is not such,
To open eyes it is a mere cycle, to closed a locked door,
After all, only noble knights ride on noble steeds,
To whom of do I speak is but a state rather then question,
To whom to I direct is more precise in asking,
Even if the answer is no more then a decision,
Shallow hearted demons we see through life make it tough,
But living together will only strengthen the barrier of which we hide in,
May it bond the glue that holds us firm in our loves and compassions,
We the people are the ones who truly make it rough,
So, to whom do I speak to,
Or to whom do I direct,
I am not the one to try to suspect of whom,
In time we demise and rot in vain,
Forever frozen in a hellish void
