Chocolate, dark, it’s a wonderful thing. Fools bark, bark, bark… never listen to the wind. As I sit here now, I contemplate self. Can it really be true that it’s not known who? or what, or when, or how, or if, or why, or then? for why am I on a dot in the sky? the weight of the world is like the touch of a girl, and with a whisper of sin, it’s gone in a whirl. But what I really wanna know, and on a serious note, why does anything grow? why, why, why, bro… is equality so damn fuckin’ slow. It’s about damn time, that someone write up a rhyme, to talk about that feral crime that’s invading both of our minds. Let’s take a moment, and be with our earth… She gave us birth, and we don’t appreciate her worth. It’s a shame you know, that only those who know, know. NO, NO, NO, NO! We must reject the blind, and the confines of our time. It’s up to you and me to deal with the knowledge tree.
poetry
The Confines Of Our Time
A handwritten poem about time, constraint, and the small ways a life keeps widening.
