Thursday, March 10, 2016
Upon the table one comments on justice,
Four corners taste the food of our liking,
Just hearts hear my side of the stories,
Very infinite is the beak of the fathers.
Money does not come in a hurry or late,
Light was on, light was off, for my glory.
Many peasants are retaliating now and then,
To see the prophetic weapons this tiny time.
The wars were finer than jewellery, so blond
And cool, like the Alice in Wonderland;
My peasant is my friend of the other side
Of this table that bears my sins of number.
Topic(s) of this poem: justice