5 minute poetry

Funka Genocide · 05-26-2004, 12:28 AM

in a box with open lid
dicarded wrappings left
stands a lonely little kid
with soul in pieces, cleft

is his rightful soundness
separated in violent haste
hungry beasts abound, this
the insipid awful taste

savored by the one not tasting
a vitriolic type abuse
the child knows his time is wasting
his future turned into refuse

the road mended while he traveled
with passage damage heals
the ravage of his past unraveled
in humble stance he kneels

just wrote this now, the product of 48 hours of consciousnes.

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05-26-2004, 12:28 AM	#11
Funka Genocide Sent to the cornfield Join Date: Apr 2004 Location: Las Vegas Posts: 4,566	in a box with open lid dicarded wrappings left stands a lonely little kid with soul in pieces, cleft is his rightful soundness separated in violent haste hungry beasts abound, this the insipid awful taste savored by the one not tasting a vitriolic type abuse the child knows his time is wasting his future turned into refuse the road mended while he traveled with passage damage heals the ravage of his past unraveled in humble stance he kneels just wrote this now, the product of 48 hours of consciousnes.