Louis Borgo Poems

Shouted at the top of your lungs vibe with me,

The bottom of the ninth you are my main hitter,
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Words Unknown,
Sound and Syllabus Sound So Strong,

Words turn to the point of degree
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The lost souls of avatar rain,
to tarrence of clouds of ancient sand quick to be release,
small fiction thoughts of armagaddon,
bet yet the fight for ever thing apolocapse yet be seen,
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as the moon existence more one perspective draw near.
the shining of the light,
light of fiction heros,
that may had existence at
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Distation religa smooth in nature,
like a sailor of a lost voyage.

rare as of her know best best friend,
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'Who got style more then son do'
the infamous quote from nas, that symbol style tast, favor and pattern for
word word.
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the dark of answer but shadow of disaster,
fed milk and developer,
if father hood was chore would you complete it.
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lost in the 'a but phrase',
and afraid to ament it.
sand by the beach that trying swim deeper,
and toes dig in to deep, made for a sweeper,
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It was like the day twlight it into heaven,
and past sophisticiation stomped like a rope to a wedding,
taps of light,
of moonlight's caliver to smile of panic enlightment,
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