John Son

15

..As soon as I saw this evil in style,
Maked behind my soul in denial,
I step back. Rest. There's nothing here to find.

Though after living in the light of 15 endless days of night
Your brain circums, since the blindfold is wrapped around your mind.

So the eyes refuse to revole,
And the clouds continue to dissolve.

My stitches disperse to sum up my curse
Of the numbers 1 and 5.

For what has become of this mess?
Is there no moral to suggest?

We all give in to our sorrow and sin,
To show our worth being alive.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 24, 2009

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