Email Poem

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Poem

Splattering dried soil upon my face 
Lying on that bed for a space 
Space for stars, rainbows, and the moon I plunged my eyes; the sky took me into a room
 An inch of fumes and smoke filled my lungs 
Drown in how they pierced their fangs 
Space by space, acre by acre—work as a trade 
My skin, eyes, and hair were cascading. 
Treasures like golden quicksand, 
Provider at most, even in their  command 
Midst of the haze, everything seems fine to me 
Died at most, thou poorest tree 
Let them cultivate their land and squeeze out my skin
Everything looks fine to me; I have no kin 
Let them pulp my eyes and scorch my feet 
Does not matter when I live in a threat 
The gift of their deeds is the scaly land 
Uncage the air and mutate the hand. 
Living in hell or living in a raging tie 
Raging storms, zapping lightning, polluted realm, and it looks fine to thine eyes 
Stood a strong soldier with all those mishaps
 Hiding my scar and fertilizing all my stuff 
When you are all broke and I’m here to embrace you 
Complaining is not my cup of tea

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