Friday, 25 April 2025

poem 244

 

I know a hole, 

It dreams of all your hate so perfect 

and in each blade, he needs to reflect 


As another life drains into the dirt

he just cries, your my latest convert



I know a hole, 

Feed it day and day, its all the same 

easy exclaims a lord land given claim 


And wine freely flows to grapes of wrath

while talks, of poverty all ends with a laugh



I know a hole, 

It proclaims upon you all, just grow and grow

But forget chains of sorrows you all know 


For we will breed, to give no quarter

in this garden horror, we’ll give you order



I know a hole, 

Each day, he try’s to sell you a soul 

while his winning smile takes control 


He just twists your love, your tender love 

into an ever-lasting, rabid dove, rabid love

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