Dusk creeps upon the bodies of the uncivil.
Emitting shadows of their true forms upon the sidewalk of which they walk upon.
Concrete stifled with the strong lingering scent of piddle.
The same pavement of which the weeds of mankind lie in between the cracks.
Where the working class heroes reside with their scars and strained backs.
they have bitten from the festering fruits of ignorance and vanity.
In the desert filled with the weathering of hearts and humanity.
that only an oasis made up of the pondering of peacemakers can nourish.
To make our society flourish
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YA/N
Sorry for taking so long to update. I have been having writer's block and going through a lot of things. I am aiming to get back on track by mid July. For those who decided to stick around, comment, or vote for me, thank you, readers like you are the ones keeping me going.
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The White Noise
PoetryThe following are excerpts from my diary of little ideas I wrote up. Tidbits of what is going on in my mind or just somethings my brain put together randomly that I thought sounded really poetic and i'm just putting it out there. Feel free to commen...
