Born of love you might come through, I am thereof hoping that is true but what of the cold and bewept of new born progeny with oncoming and none avoidant delinquency. The environmental factor loaded look at what no love has done, no care to feel when lost in the emotional deserts of the world, every arm a flailing in despair spinning to dizziness, ready to fall down in confusion. I was born I had lived, was I loved the matter of fact usage becomes incredible and where is the shore for the dispossessed to sit to save and lift from this undulating matter less road stuck from birth, by that noise in your ear. exhaling who are you, who are you, where is your mother “all grown up now I said.”
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The Poetic Warrior Returns to his Poetry after Illness Welcome One, Welcome All