Too poor to eat rye and to be downed and drowned in soup equates a life of struggling.
An artist's palette is a plateful of words that are imaging and imagining.
Sounding alarms like silent screaming and scheming.
Chugging down verbage like leafage comsumed by the pages of books read.
The spirit is fed the last supper with free wine thats red.
The ruins grow from the composition and acquisition of the dead.
Quotes, notes and jokes survive through testimonials and testaments of time.
Feed the masses with equivalical links in line.
New slumber will tumble for roots replenish the signs in a mind.
About Me
- Freed Im Fighting
- Just don't matter what's said as long as it somewhere for it to be read.
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