To property with a high degree
That puts to shame anyone with soft soothing tea
Moving along past inscribed miseries
     On peoples faces
     Oh, further fast, going places
Board that silk laced train without hesitation
Gather white flowers, take no intimidations
For the poet writes only about rays of mitigation
     That breaks open the shaded
     Which is ignored and faded
For the true painter paints, only what they care to see
Not what others are faced to be
Once they decide their messages for he and she
     Each tree they will chop with a fake type of force
     For the poet now has stolen their horse
On which they rode to the promise land
With the dead, the unborn, & the hand
Of what is what & who tears the bands
     Apart for they don't speak
     Only listen, repeat, and creak
Soft now please, go to the beach with the swirling keeps
Perhaps there will lay the sleeping sheep
That you wish not to be, for they are meek in heaps
     And do not know every meaning
     Behind every tower leaning
Learn something there, then return
For not your destiny everyone yearns
Rather it is peace and a chance to learn
     About a prophecy new
     And culture few
Or perhaps that is a lie
Like every tear shed through an eye
That hopes to gain something through a tight tie