Echos in the ripples of the consigning wave.
Kept calling your name with fortitude.
Marvelling at your shadowed sight.
You felled down,
bowed like hypocrites.
And then expected
a return to show that face.
You poured down
of what you were feeded,
You remained in the
boxes that were given.
Things aren’t fair or just
All are painted with same color,
Rights are wrongs and wrongs are rights.
When the one shouts for rights
there is no unison,
All bathing in the same blood..
When the distinction of zero and one
are faded with concoction, then,
following shall be Dire destructions.
The wrongs bellied in bogged assuagements,
There shall be then no return,
When then thy fall
in the pit of conflagration,
Ignorant and blinded by qualm lights.
Ye! Well then be a zombie?
Eventually crying out with contrite heart.
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