Standing still Crushed rampaged metals collide the face splashed with guts of the masses Massacras being routines in all routes the scenes are blinding as light flashes before the eyes like angry skies in darker nights
The day is reborn the face wiped with cloths of sorrow black bags already gone but not forgotten, pardoned only when the bones have cracked and the body can no longer stand the pain, with holes deep enough to be filled by the rain.
So there I was walking on the road and I'm thinking what does it feel like for people to step on you and walk all over you at every turn in your life.. and so I wrote this poem