Chloey was a concubine
By the time that she was nine
Gents who should have saved her
Said only she was mighty fine.
Life through the dust
Hard labor through the concrete jungle
Manifest by the powerful dictators.
Empty promises, eating there own words.
Children walk through the dark with knifes.
Hoodlums, youth gangsterism Glares.
Civilization rant, harlotry blooms.
Online brothel, living borrowed time.
Great potential turning to invalid rascals.
Ho! Life through the dust
Manifest by the powerful dictator
Government disarray, kleptocracy reign
Embezzlement dazzling, job devoid
Poverty booms, murder. Violence, the air stench
terrorism stares, Religious scandals
Blood splits dyed the society
The gentle dusty-wind doth moves
Large population lived in slum
Poor health standard zoom
Silently, hiddeness, soul perished
The bigwigs consume from the bane of other
The one who make their home besides our ribs
Life through the dust snare.
The truth is lost, We fall to dust.
harlotry to think
of worlds when waves do crash so
and the breaks come in
There amongst the shadows,
a masterful elucidation
of melancholic glee.
While the winds of change
take hold of thee, for
the splendor and eyes
of every many.
For the gentle whore
whose troubles woe,
perchance a cup
of pennyroyal tea.
For upon the throne
of harlotry, a gentle
courtship, spoken
cordially a many
young man. . . "of
thee, plenty. . . ."
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