Like in a trap of the worlds, a soothing menace,
Called above the ground, rises up in a zist,
For all the times aligned and befallen before
Us all and be laughed at in a fading mist.
As much like that menace, you all need a cult,
You all need a system to point out the elephant,
To avoid the eyes and prey the nice
And blame all your miseries to an innocent.
Your pointless fingers will all be rubbed back
And all of those claims would be returned,
As the tides of time would rise up high
And would splash clear the truths hidden.
So the soaring crack in the weakling back
Of the base of your house of lies
Would turn bigger and more figured
To let you all fall beneath your own skies.
I may sound stupid but I don't sound high
Cause my soberness pays me in shorts.
As I would witnesses your fall and lay over it,
While it becomes the Paradigm of a Corpse.
Your examples would be driven through ages
And your name be as good as phantom of course,
As I would witnesses your fall and lay over it,
While it becomes the Paradigm of a Corpse.
YOU ARE READING
A Quarrel in the Brain Park
PoetryJust some poems I wrote, at different points of my life. Hope you relate to them at some point. Also to remember, it's a collection of poems so there are many genres. See if you'll like either of them.
