Lucrative miseries

A lion enjoys hunting its prey.
And is well benefited.
To the king, none did defray.
So, sturdy is his head.
The cloud cried in pain,
and poured down the rain.
We enjoy the rain & exit the cloud.
that cherished millions of crowd.
The laborers lay their force,
to base our home.
The work when over of course,
He more a boredom.
Weakness must not be exposed,
For emotions are assorted in mud.
And the fact that hasn’t aroused
is, even swords weep tears of blood.
An emigrant can’t inhabit in a land
where he can make friends.
He has no time for them to understand.
Outlook can be distorted & trust may descend.
The stranger lives in misery,
when his thoughts are perverted.
It’s lucrative to his rivalry,
But his heart is dead.