Lets quench poetrys thirst.. Beneath pitch forests we mold pigs - TopicsExpress



          

Lets quench poetrys thirst.. Beneath pitch forests we mold pigs to call ourselves swines? Seasons grooming reasons nature mated with blossoms people grew to breath hue? Are we aliens destined to fight with our own black skin? Toiling, yealling, tickling eastern bugs to laugh at rising suns? Then whose sons are fathered by childish monkeys jumping around hoops to circumference evolution? Overflowing single woman burried behind the glimpse of sarcastic men... Stars lighting fallen skies, Red moons prune the solar system, And humans breathing gases, guesses the young man who drove hearses filled with dead bodies. Shadows of dooms day swing heads shameless of death as if warriors butcherd their own necks...to showcase bravery. Abstract Piece. -Chronos Author
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 17:39:55 +0000

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