Friday, August 22, 2014

A something, and a poem

If we all behind.
It is not nice when people die, or if their little funny ones die.
It is not nice.

I will bring out everything with just one poem:


I will start now


This might be nice, and here it goes:

I don't know what it is called
It gives me scars
Ruby, saphire, the blood diamond

It ends here
so cool, and so cold
I feel attention
because I'm so old

It shows a light
killed people, killed souls
we are for shining gold

Kill the mother, kill the son
It's not someone you know
loose a tie, loose a soul
academies are going low

diamonds, emeralds lying low
good to be let it show
one good thing for you to know
I'm gonna stand with ladies sewer low

Know its good, know its bad
there is no sunshine underneath the ban
this is the fallocalipse
this is it, this not now, laughing chips

you are young
you will learn all the crips
all the things
you will be
the important feminist

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