The world, a child 

her mind, a chamber 

for nurtouring thoughts 

no creature could blame her


stained skin 

with blood so pure 

they crave for her veins 

In search for a cure 





only to find 

there’s no reason for progression 

we leave no impression 

high hopes are imprisoned 

and all soon forgotten 

by a simple injection 

from ONE mans instruction 


dare to refuse the poison ? 

Has any one yet to succeed? 

We are fallen 

and need to feed 


This poem is about: 
Our world


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