your are so easy to fool

too many have faced what they call fear, to cower and shudder with no one to hear, brethren and foe kill all those who are dear, in the dark alley, not in the night, but near, anything that is holy, is a disgrace, to be the one, the first, to shed a tear.

no amount of liquid red can cure their happy smiles, time flies but not without the smirk in their cries, folding like paper these heathens, when called their lies, folded and tattered like the man on the aisles, of the narrowing road floating in my mind, heal or not it never flies.

They will hold you in their arms and grace you with guns, think of them as mothers giving birth to children for fun, it never stops at just the first suckle, those buns baked but not eaten for fear hides in the trunk,

Up it wants to come, god says let it be, pay me, worship me, cry to me, but don’t hope from me. All in heaven and below, the papers crumbled lie in the bins, no one cares until the garbage man comes, then they shout “let him suffer a little more for our sins”.

A sudden burst during a chem engg. course. Boredom is a muse.