(Using the prompt from day 19 at http://www.napowrimo.net, I took on the task of writing an opposite poem. My sincerest apologies to Shelley whose original work is included following my attempt at an opposite poem.)
Brass lock of the desert of laughter,
Where the body thirsts till the heart is serene;
Hardest life of minimal valor,
Where their father, Apathy, like an agitated teen,
Is standing awake in sand.
A Fragment: To Music
Silver key of the fountain of tears,
Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;
Softest grave of a thousand fears,
Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy child,
Is laid asleep in flowers.
Percy Bysshe Shelley