Natures Periodic Angry Whips

The gods are mean and on a bad mission all may come to beg and give a try then so much sand push for an erosion fine stone in the form of tiny men just ply the seas get very mad with no cushion wave in, wave out they make life weep and cry a claw from deep down jumps for division from each grip, land is hit and want to fly rain can come in the form of a bad brand the flee of men from the run of pis’d sand guns from deep down for the top to expand pair of legs of the bad rule of a prince both send a shot and more on man since on each, life won’t fall yet nor face the rinse.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Bavington  Avatar
June 30, 2017 at 11:10 AM
This reminds me of when a hurricane is getting ready to hit land fall. It is filled it lots of emotion good job.
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