Odd It is!!!
Abomination!!!
For the sun to burn a son born
Born of a son that causes the sun to bow
Am a son born

I THINK I WRITE RIGHT... Wale ****


Though am not a good poet
and my poem may not sound correct
but indirect it affect....

though am not word bank
but my word still sank
like a plank in the water tank

Then I know I cannot go blank
like the world richest would
not lack money from his bank

The paper cannot be white
like my mama's wrapper
though it is tight for me to write in the night
But I'll go to the light where it's bright
that what I write can be right.

a wish or command
I've got a war to fight
thoughts bore me
death fills my mind
that disgusting place
I can't turn back
chasing a shadow in the dark
gloomy violin in a well
zombies, how you hypnotized
wounded hearts, next stop
words doesn't mean anything
anymore