I can't write anymore, nothing much to say,
Life got in the way shut that door in my face.
Wasn't really happy but could verse before,
It's all gone for now and forevermore.
Love is dead and it's bound to fall,
While the world kneels low and it stands up tall.
Grinning in the face of death it blooms.
You can have it with coffee and shit load of magic mushrooms.
Hate is alive, well more like undead.
It lurks in darkness and with care, born and bred.
Brother kills brother in jealousy and hate.
But somehow these religious bastards blame it on fate.
YOU ARE READING
The fight for our souls
PoetryIts poetry in its rawest, some questions everyone at one point or another ask themselves. Its very personal and close to my heart. These are the things I think of sitting alone, regardless to say it's not a pleasant feeling to be trapped in my own t...
