Saturday, November 23, 2013
One bitter angle has appeared for little,
Giants are blander now that you sow
The seeds of this world that works for you.
Fruits are like genes of the highest chill,
Chilly airs arise, with chilly consequences.
There is an angle to understand for answers,
Sour people see sweetness when tasted
Like the seeds of the nearly mysterious planet.
Damp new seeds are new for their pride,
Boiling planets of sand are against us with worry.
One smooth and damaged end designs me,
The planet was a wand for the brilliance,
The world was a planet of plans and passes.
See their wonders if the high people are called
Their giants, that wonder and ponder till death.