Self violated of the untold tales of violations that were long gone to serve justice
devils inside of me cry in anguish
the beaded lies form a process of the decision made by one kind
carefully caress each and every soul as i walk the trail of hell
where rotten deceased bodies were drifting by the surface of deeds and greeds
killers and demons are bad for my heart
i have been so messed up that kills me to know the fouls of guilt and pleasure
why being a sadist was a harm word or action to be said by the legislation of the books
that was once written but no proves to the provider that veins down the vain of artery stream blood of subconscious mind
The disturbance of a mystery red eyes kills us before the wanderlust spikes thru its breath of cold fresh air in the summer night
where the wolf howls ans owl watches
creature of mistic unknown appears to be telling me the truth of mankind is a destructive species
glide is all they say i continue to walk down to find myself driven
while whispers say about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
YOU ARE READING
The Vicious Passion
Poesía"A woman without her man is nothing" As a woman, we've heard this phrase been spoken uncountable times. Do we ever wonder how does one society stereotype us, women, into one illusion circle category and not knowing how to face it Why is it so hard f...
