The mind of the dying day has scattered
One thousand or more children
To the wind of tomorrow.
It is not an unusual day, it is more so
A time where the taming of the
Shrewd silence has been broken
By the most disturbed spirit,
A spirit lingering in agony.
The child molester tired energy
Becomes a blood-lust
Of unwitting natural desires,
And their heart has no shame
Because they have forgotten and buried
Their own care-free childhood,
A past that has no mercy.
The sex demons possess their soul
Day and night, their wild unnatural imaginings
Are their maiden voyage
To that unknowing death
Where the children will smile no more,
And there will be no fairy tales in their time.
The mind of the dying spirit
Knows no good, they are blinded by their rage,
Living in an almost innocent tale..,-
Living in-between here and there,
Awaking from an angry nightmare
Reliving the bloodthirsty dream
Over and over, and over.
The kiss of death they visualize
Like an hysterical mad man
Searching for that natural desire
The appeasement of ignorant acceptance.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for taking the time to reply to this blog post.