Pikin Amerasb Poet ABC

There the Rhythm Goes

There the rhythm goes,
With the drum, as we pose,
As the time goes by,
All the way with rhymes 
Being made so fine,
Blessed, through with zin;
Though in this solo slime
Being bound with hollow crimes
That forsakes the being of Christ;
But we will always try,	
If tough, even with cries,
To reach the maker of life,
With Prancing Poems and Poetry.

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