World Free

Youth’s freedom lug,
turmoilsÂ’ housed smug
set toil-horrors’ act mild:
wish steers new, wild you,
styled get benefits will few,
touches scene to fumes still,
exit the simple’s savage’s ill
must there finely profit lust:
until evolve, genuine sprout,
rages’ shamedly trash spout;
euphoria’s savior tools made
fire’s discover find by trade!
Hope is scarce if breathing!
Alone, madness is seething!
Crawl, farced-death’s shine!
Burns shrines, but not mine!

 

Todays best new poem was written by Heather.

 
 

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