Trump Thoroughly Becoming Terrible
Trump was thoroughly becoming terrible,
As well as unsure of self and unbearable;
Standing tall;
Real goof ball;
Like broken record appearing irrepairable.
Jim Horn
Acidulous feelings of hatred
perpetuates those heart
revenge is born in the dark.
The end of this road is death
where equanimty is destroyed
with irrepairable damages.
Love starts excruciating,
the deepest scars with
impossible recuperations.
Thousand pieces of my broken heart
writhe and sings the tale of bedevilment[ torture]
love kills when faith turns delusive.
Innocense is masscred
promises are shattered
I have lived with the darkest truth,
a killer behind the beautiful face,
his ugliest secrets.
A gangster only knows his gun
traitorous to even his own mother and son
I am one of those fallen angels,
a blood splattered mistress,
under his satanic grip.
my beautiful body now bruished
damages are irrepairable..
Graveyard will surely smell this monster
My life ends in love with this gangster…
To be continues….
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy ?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death ?
SATISH VERMA
I HATE LOSING!!!!!!!
LOSING TENDS TO LEND A IRREPAIRABLE HARM.
THAT SOMETHING THAT ONLY FORSAKES,
ONLY ABSORBS AND TAKES!!
LEAVING NOTHING BUT BROKEN MEMORIES
BATTERED HEARTACHES!!!
I HATE LOSING!!!!!!
AND EVERY SINCE OF THE WORD.
WITH EACH MEMORY THROUGH TIME
I CAN'T FORGET THE FEELING LEFT BEHIND!!!
SO WITH EACH MOMENT THAT I BREATHE,
I CHOOSE WINNING,
FROM DEEP, DEEP WITHIN!!
SUMMONING STRENGTH, COURAGE AND PRIDE!!!
FOLLOWED BY EMOTIONS I CANNOT HIDE!!!
TEARS OF JOY,
TEARS OF PRIDE,
ALL THE WHILE
HAPPY THAT I JUST PUNCHED LOSING IN THE EYE!!!!!!!!!!!
like ether, permeating all space
mesmerizing,
he walked away, head of his enemy
in his hand,
like a trophy ?
frighteningly orangish
a decapitated body shudders.
The holy war
demands its price of a joke.
The face of red and blue.
A terrible reminder of a snaky past
that kills the puppets. The hands
dance in air.
The irrepairable, pink wounds
bleed, sweat smoke
of death ?
SATISH VERMA
Frozen like ice,
the idea had stuck,
some of them do,
and take their toll,
they call them fixations,
they are the constraints,
mostly built,
though constraints are rarely built,
but these ones you do,
and like an obedient boy,
put down arms,
whenever they are around,
whatever might be the gain,
or irrepairable harm.
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