Make me time and I will make it dine,
Lend me your life to add to my dive,
Rolling stones ate often not drones,
Just like imaginations can never be dimensions.

Total time that comes crashing down with the fillings of a great storming clown, being alone all gone I could only frown to the specs of a brown,
As in the shadows of a scale of the tough pages I bear by striking my own storms with fear while they called it care, my moment so fake to hear.
Now wisdom's pages I ensnare to the born glory call of a grail like a journey of uncertain trail, such filling of trial before a maker of bold bald trait.

I called to a surgeons in my mare delivery to seek for the fastest sleep against morons with their entangled clamore of monstrous comforting pinch.
Inch by stitch I redeem my shameful glory rather than the snitch, that past-present bitch for such ditch I call them mare pinch.
Tomorrow the god of history to today, yesterday and now reminds me of such time when I could smile to a day the grandson of future.

I smiled to her wings of disgust intended trait, like it was my favorite sandwich but in my clouded red, as it beat seventy two times a minutes,
I smile to life not swept beyond my feet yet.
Let glorious doom accompany failure far from me , for while they journey in their folly my emptiness and pieces I pick to embark on my fury.

Let the old smiles accompany my views of roses and green to a dream of seen, in miles of seconds.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Our world


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