Morning breakfast

November 20, 2007
By
Pour me a bowl of withering pride
Sprinkle flakes of hate over it
Give me a glass of insalubrious pain
Along with toasted raging jealousy
Plus fresh picked insanity
After finishing my devastating breakfast
I'm ready for the day
But not for the incubus, ludicrous, hypocrisy world
That festers the working minds
Breaths vapors of propaganda into are blood streams
And leaves it’s wounded hearts, and minds falling in black holes
It lets us die, when it’s not time for are timely death
Peace will not solve this matter
Peace is no longer a word
We are the word, we are the ones called peace
Though we are not words but people
Speak if you have a voice
Wave your arms if you have arms
React to this act if you are free
End a fall





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