7
Beached
moaning salty
of escaping
a predator's
wishing,
its better to die
or hoping
humanity
will push you back
my fellow dolphin
into the sea's
deep depths.....
It used to be
a faith
of those,
but
the wheels
are turning
to darkness....
the good,
un-rewarded
and the rickety
of a bridge
of the wharf,
measuring
of how
demons
can release
such
disgusting
of the things.....
A peace should belong
to angels' of voices,
but we are stuck
in a dirty mud
of our fantasy lands....
A dim light
still
holds sight,
we need
to realize
little voices
of the
children
can keep
that darkness
inflicting.
This world
is a curl
to anything
unless
we find
our voice,
before
we find
death
and PTSD.
Focus on the flowers
and not on media
so graphic,
but the bettering
not of how and here
we don't even exist.
But we still have
such a slamming
conscious.
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