Saturday, 29 September 2012

FOLLOWED THOUGHTS



It was done a thousand years
Like today in his time
Appealing to the mind
The fertile ground that grows all things
Hate and love for a harvest of
Pepper and salt
The ground that imprisons and liberates
Why do you still hold me
After my hands in fetters you leave
A prisoner, a slave, this mental torture
This abuse I cannot escape
If I come not to you
Or through you,I pass not.

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