Poetry is about rhyming and timing but there is no time to rhyme, when the world rumbles its crust and BOOM BOPS to the sound of its own tune.
Art is about form but there is no time to form, when the world releases waves that destroy our core. Our core trembles, cries but can't be heard by the tapping of fingers on a brick that lingers that of the mind.
HELP! Help are the horrendous screams of those and its that suffer from the world's weeps but in which their sound particles are flinged by ignorance of all these "alleged articles".
Oh I forgot to set a reminder on my phone to do good for the environment because my conscious refuses to tell me but I'm only human can you blame me?
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Genrations Of Poems
Poezjawhen I wake up from my depression I write these poems about the genrations
