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A poem about war and love and God and material
Lately hes stopped talking
giving in to that silence
but me being the moon
I can only give into violence.
My father, my Sun
the maker of my one.
His silence is shattering my ever growing world
and the destruction thats coming from me being a girl.
I love them I love them I only want more.
My children My Victims
this ever growing (lol, synonym to harlot this is messing up my rhyming skillzz).
My mother my keeper, my love undying soul.
I wanted to keep her but this hole is growing old.
Yes the whole is growing old
and falling all apart
its getting very close
to having to restart.
Its aging imperfect
its falling all apart
its time again
to born a new heart.
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Beware that no one lead you astray saying Lo here or lo there! For the Son of Man is within you.
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