The raw reality churns,
Like sticks of butter we melt in the
Hot sun,
We are yearning for a path we can't
Fallow,
Inside smooth pail skin we are hallow,
And my scales won't rip,
Like gorgons we are equipped with the power
Of death,
To kill one another,
Memories shoved in like prisoners behind bars,
Inside their jail sells they blindly fallow,
Population rises,
Kill off more to survive it,
As the temperature slowly drops
We are frozen inside the things we call home,
locked inside our damaged vessels, wanting freedom when we have
more freedom then we can handle |
Submission Name: Tragic kingdom
