feeling follicles of fragments shattered;
in the inland they are plastered- iron walls of deadly diseases
destroying families overseas.
for it is fiction-
a flop of an era
not a disease but barricades of beastly people they call "citizens".
we wait in fear, for war awaits
like loneliness occurs, a criminal is made.
this is not my country,
the country I know of crimson king and cotton candy.
tis' a country of despair and disaster of a dooming society.
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Author:
kalanigarcia (
Offline) - Published: May 28th, 2020 23:15
- Comment from author about the poem: I am not into politics or anything like that at all so excuse my misusage if any; this just flowed out of me, i thought to record it even though it may be considered nonsense.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 34
Offline)
Comments1
Not nonsense k
Very real and possible
Good write
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