L.T Sanders Poems

It’s a complicated situation that I’m facing.
Between broken dreams and death planning conversations.
I constantly ask why I fell out of God’s hands into the arms of satin.
Praying for life after death, deep down questioning the continuation.
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Kings and queens or the infamous dictators couldn't have blessed us with the seven wonders of the world.
They were obviously constructed by the alimighty dream makers.
Into the cosmos their visions would eventually take us.
Now what awaits us is just pure speculation.
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We can debate after the race.
Until then I will enjoy these few days regardless of what you have to say.
There is nothing wrong with a competitive nature.
But sometimes the price of success can be over paid.
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Bravery is the father of fear.
Dreams are distant cousins of nightmares.
Hope is the sister of prayers.
Every night shame lies down and gets screwed by despair.
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It was written the world would see it’s darkest days and reason
would be a conflict of religion.
We couldn’t grasp the reality of the whole thing until the second plane
hit with precision.
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The blood hits the floor.
It drops from the womb.
In a tight stuffy room is where I lay down and except my doom.
I tightly grip a bottle of vodka.
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We all love to celebrate the life of the brave and courageous.
But who truly cares about the departure of the nameless faces.
The victims of a lack of information.
Drowning in society’s pool because they never received the proper education.
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The human body is a remarkable machine.
So complex in it’s structure but simple enough to produce
blatant messages in the form of dreams.
Histories greatest Physicians guiding us through the flesh, but what lies inside is not always what it seems.
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Hey Mr. perpetrator, Mr. back stabbing, soul taker
Mr. negative commentator, Mr. almighty self acclaimed
Heavyweighter.
You cant’ comprehend the present so how can you see me later
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