Absolutely a possibility the new know all that there is to be
Without rearing or influences
You see. They see.
From the beginning maybe
Experience colors the soul a
Bit pessimistic or routine is
It or reality that
Days add more than wrinkles
To our cheeks, perhaps, days add
Crinkles to your synapse,
A fold to your temporal lobe
Not temporary or extraneous that we learn evil,
Not a bite from some apple,
A reptilian representation, or
As we crawl skinned knees
Burn supple becomes calloused.
As It were, instinct, I can
Smell
Burning like incense in a swaying
Silver cantonment ritual.