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Mar 2021
Death speaking in tongues,
As a flame of fire tongue
Waiting like a waiter to receive the glory of shame through men
For they act like hen
What will I gain gain from this question WHEN?
Where every huddles of beast has turned to a gist

I respect the voice of the wilderness,
For the desert has wildered away in my twinkle like a disappearance star
Waiting to see the moon in no avail of its angle
Calling the angEL of angLE
To stand for me in the darkest path
Pushing me away from the rocky parts

The big eye is at its centre of equilibrium
Having its measurement at the pendulum of the cambium
Recording the result as insult
For the innovations has turned to renovations
For I know I have a salvation that will take me to the sanctuary
The pad has turned to bad
For the hope is now in between the spoke of a bicycle

Reason me ohhh God
For my people are now dog
Trying to dodge from the dirge of the succors
Belittling the scorpion as a tiny beast of the breast
That will rest in the chest of the heavenly bed…
The pad has turned to bad
For the hope is now in between the spoke of a bicycle
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