Poetry

Corrupted men. Sins broken. Lives changed for the worst. This is only the measure of the unthinkable horrors we have bestowed upon ourselves and the enemy. Unimaginable sins and burdens that we all carry would weigh up to crush us under its boot. Constant screams and gunfire shake the very ground. Disease and death consume us and is only waiting. hoping to destroy us all.

The Colours Of Me

Most of me is fun loving orange

Kind and caring,

Sweet with spice and everything nice,

This side of me makes me feel on top of the world,

and that I can jump off the highest mountain,

Going everywhere doing everything,

Fearless and free,

Making me soar above the clouds like a star in the sky.

This part of me is a sickly green

stropy and sulky

bad tempered and grizzly

this part of me makes me stomp my feet

kick and scream the house down

wriggle and squirm

drive my Mother mad

These Are the Colours  of Me