What Can I Write

By
What can I write such a noble creature?
One who listens and one who cretins
Can you guess of such a message?
I will say
This world is to end as flowers dwindle
The earth spins with vengeance for you
While to its seasons, it is pleasure
To your harvest, it is murder. Can I?
Can I be the one who changes it?
Besides the cold November rain
To take in it pain to treat the earth with sugar
Than of such meager existence
We can trap it in my closet
Keep it there to hide avoid as always
To show the world that this is what we fear
You shut the door and let us scream
The children know of this and we do not listen
The times changed and our seasons dwindle
Ears listen and behold such a force
What is it a time of courage a time of battle?
Speak loud, I enchanter will tell you of the year
The November rain became spring
The loss we had these months was great
Farmers raise your hungry rakes
Let them feed upon the flesh
Withered into its skin
Send them to their barren fields
To feel the changing spelt
Can I ask of one deep question?
Is there life after the seasons?
Or is it leaving in pursuit of light
To search for life
Hidden in its closet is there light
While hidden in a dark corner covered in lies
Is there a person that would see my picture?
Of a man without his heart
Dreams of his hopeless nights
To farm and feed the children right
To see the picture of the past
Cars, gas and hippie romance
Driving to fields to make cash
Is this what became a mean to exist
To hide beyond the bliss
To seek a longer life
Of leaves and tides to learn to fight
Nature as one is gone
To be able to move upon its path
You did not listen but listen well
The change is here to unveil
Withered cold in green houses global





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