Blabbering your thoughts takes away their worth, So write them down for a symphony's birth I use ink and lines to calm my mind, To depict my state, to mirror my life.
BLIGHT A crow may eat some rotten bread, He does it in daylight, unlike your religious games, If someone catches us nibbling the bread of shame, We fill him up with paper, the fire must not spread, So white when there is Sun, our sins howl at night , We blightened souls,reject apples with slightest blight, In daylight for charity, you knock at the door, Knock again in darkness, spending on something more, When wind gets strong, you curse your God And praise your fate when you mine some gold, Since now you are grey, sin is not for the old, you enter the village of piety ,they applaud, your stay at the castle of sin remains untold, This is our story, our misery and plight Many pious scholars the dell might hold.
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My memory (19/04/2017)
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