Sunny lanes crawl high up, upon my face
Watering steadily the flesh covered by faith
Leaving germination of the thoughts to sway
From winds that have not bent its way.
Soothing recklessly the times of gain
While earthly dependency grows crooked again
But contentment of fruits bared
Have fed more hearts in days
And rainy stairs replaced
Many sunny lanes every day.
But!
Greed knows its vein,
Its stream that flows from within
It carries all needs,
Even ones of desolation
And grim
Towards a root
Unable to stay anew.
A product of disciplinary mounting anger for shameful pleasures.
Saturated by agonizing defeat, plastering the souls of humanity.
Solely for self assurance of days being free, without subsidies replacing traditional beliefs
Nurturing concealed possessions soon to be free
Upon a dynasty we all fail to feel.
But sanity knows of me
And sacrifices taking places of serenity.
Though struggles grow profoundly
An instinct isn’t considered a gift
Tormented by fiery goals,
The wants of wanting more
The reluctant dreams of selecting all.
Oh, how merely of patience and lies
Giving crustily the demands of our wicked minds.
Sampling favors dispensed by the dignity of unpleasant finds.
A weather can do a lot, it can bring you down and raise you up
It can ******* sorrows and feed your heart
It can take vows instead of warmth.

So many changes from nature alone, has done a lot

And ever since *** made mornings,
I’ve wept every month for nature to be understood
To see seasons appreciated by all folks.

But storms dwell not, on wanted floors
And satisfaction knows not of fallacy untold.
So deviance's are paid by skint souls

And human nature forgets its role.
Sing me the poetry of the world
With hyphens and bona fide verses
With simplicity conveying secrets of beauty
And gratitude's in every full stop aroused.

For what music, should ever please the ***'s ?
To have them say
'Mankind has found its way'
To show them the justification of keeping us never astray
And playing sweetly, the mistakes we make.

Forgiveness we gave.
In perfect sequence and shade
Only to abstract,
The sweet song
of poetry in faith
Ballistic love, feeds upon my cup
Feasting only in the presence of ****
Sampling hurt’s, like vicious trots
As gentle sinners speaks of us.

But naïve is the channels we gain
For righteousness takes time to prevail
And the nurturing of desires relapses on precious tome
Comforting souls no longer in need of a home.
I never understood, how being a father was different
I never understood, how safety was felt from his presence.
I never could understood, why a father had to be free.
Was it me?
Was it only me, who saw the less need of one.

I have a father, I guess it's compulsory.
He's thicken in the mind, and coarser in the heart.
He's mine, that's the documents proof.
But does he feel like mine?

That I cannot proof, I'm not scared of him.
I'm scared to continue living with him.
I don't wish death to carry him, anywhere
I just wish, to grow further away from him.

I'm not motivated by his speech.
Maybe it's his mind, confused,
So I let him speak, his liquor helps a lot.
It gives him purpose, I assume.
Since he never stops.

I can never change the facts,
The facts that I have a father.
We all do, whether it be an orphan.
But to change him, not mind or soul.

That I cannot control,
He's one day bright,
He's one day night
Never a weather, to go out and play.

So if you have a father that surely not like this other.
You shouldn't be bothered, mine can be cheaper than a dollar.

So I have a father, and a mother, I have both,
But if you we're me, I'm sure
I'm sure
You'll prefer another.
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