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Oct 2018
Through a torn visage, I see the flame
One torch, by day, reflects ages hence
That spark, they say, can't be to blame
But many, still, keeps shoulders tense.

Man, sincerely, calls for homeland
But flame to mirror rends reflection bent
When man, in jest, sets sparks to woodland
The forest, torn, its visage now rent.
Erik Whalen
Written by
Erik Whalen  21/M/Syracuse
(21/M/Syracuse)   
408
     Possum living, Carrie Crusoe and Fawn
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