Hoping brows of change to see the world in your cage.Life is old and tears run cold if you mold the world a road with no ending.Maybe it is time-the end-.Turning the clock back i knock on memories and realise we have been a lock and a block to our own self consciousness.All we do is talk and walk the world a wound.
I come from the west to see the highest human hatred instinct.I saw the African face from its bone.I've felt no judgement than a statement.I've seen man mullish and foolish to polish their egos.I feel like i am lost amongst the most ghosts,you run to them for nought.
There is none to come from blood.Where do i end with these pains.I have no vivid portrait of this nude miracle,but i know how to walk around a circle of a chronicle.
Where is the caring world? The bars mark scars of infinite description in our eyes.Are we people and is life that simple for us and the crippled little doors?
We all have a motive to achieve,but we deceive our faith by wanting to receive.
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