PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As two seasons turn into 4 when i salute to the poor, I stare into the bank of the shore I feel like I will never die being reborn and risings for more, it happens over and over again as I hit the pen whit this paper I know it will happen over and over again, I eases all of my sins I promise god to never false worship again for you are the creator and I am just a creation, I scream to the spirits that I know are listening when I look up golden rain goes over my head glistening, as the sound echo’s that frees me from my mental prison I say this to free the children, because I was stuck in the same condition.