Chained I

There was once a chain null of pain,
and a chain full of pain,
one prefer to face the rain,
embrace lightnings,
engage fighting
without running;
one prefer to avoid the blame,
avoid defame,
changing the same.

Both are without wrongs,
just like songs,
free to express,
depress.
They face duress
by people of wrongs,
without being wrong.
But the chains eventually bond
a relationship of fond.
And life continues for long.

But the chains are tightened,
then the chains are frightened,
and the chains are lightened,
without time to adapt.

The chains are on fire,
the chains are sure dire
for sly errs,
when the heat grew stronger,
wronger,
and lasted longer,
when a rope was connected,
and its soul collected.

Both are without sins,
just the urge to win,
both flames equally wild,
takes long to turn mild.

But both chose silence.

And when a flame smothers the other,
it shall enrage either,
the rope will choose neither,
but it clung onto both chains,
which are too fragile,
and it is not agile
to avoid the blaze,
and suffocated in the haze,
when it is without wrong.

The rope clung tighter onto a chain,
loosening the grip on the other chain,
but prefer the other chain,
over the chain it clung tighter.
But its life was in the grip
of the tighter chain,
just one trip,
and it will burn.

And the rope burned.