Misconception of thoughts and beliefs ,
How did we end up like gypsies and thieves.
Shining fire to silver and grey,
The noose is tight, straight line of shuffling slaves.
Early morning is quickly closing in,
Mirrors and paintings
Misjudges and sins.
Wondering where and how to begin,
Battles of love and the suffering.
Fly me a kite, so the wind can take hold ,
A path to which I'll follow , if the truths to be told .
Simple as I am , dirt and waters all I need ,
For the souls of my concrete toes to feed.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.