The smell of it
Will identify souls
When ashes and skulls are left
Beside the smoke of burns
It will be the only thing left of us
The gift we were, given, from birth
Wombs. Where we once laid our heads
Love is unsettlement
So say it, that the slum was home!!!
Beyond it all, the stars will still exist
But they will be us
So reserve that for GOD to give!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment