Inabity to cope with false noise,
Just keep playing with your toys.
Those who play enjoy no cure,
Made not to see the pure.
Move with acts pre planned,
Or risk being ran or tanned.
Find something of your own,
Son thats not a good tone.
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Author:
Thinker (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 24th, 2018 20:55
- Comment from author about the poem: I'll leave those willing to read a mindset to contemplate a true meaning
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 32
Offline)
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