The creators, for so many.
The Be-end for all.
bleedingly innocent destruction...
Timed organised designed, selfishness..
Limited tribalism..
Constructed routes 2 dimensionally commissioned.
Soul- lost at sea treasure...
Legally corrupted, sunken
Covered messes..
The end game... Glimpses seen..
Skillfully hidden, wearers in darkened clothe...re-tweeking/working
At all cost.... Blocked, turned away belatedly...
Diverted until matrixed bills exhausted...
Tools aged, perfected irony not lost
Eons of truth reversed for a few...
The messes once walked tall..
Shakingingly strong resilient
Individuals stoically moulded..
wHoly Ball deep cellular conduits..
Collectively individually wired in..
Above and below, Us, you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem