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Word smith an unintelligent gun smith power lives, in the sound between your lips so girls bend your hips just jokes so, Netflix and chill, ...

Saturday, 13 September 2025

Talk.

 How times have changed of where opinionated blame
justify red rain within eyes of the children that remain
of lines erased in a world that'll never be the same
a grain of truth disdained within malnourished pain
the only hate speech is hate to speak. Papers left plain
of anything but the signature of a name
lost is the humane when there's no will to obtain
our perpetual soul, that's somehow misplaced in our earthly reign 
it's so sad of what "Power to the people" became.

May the bread stay broken, untaken
of fences mended among the splintered forsaken
and let these bloodied thorns be a symbolic token of peace awoken.

Bang goes the drum amidst a choir soft-spoken

let the beauty tame the beasts of what we left wide-open.