A horse was unleashed today, as a sign of envy.
The goal was to shorten my day, excruciating time's ending.
How do we stop hate, pain, and ingrates of life,
Who would rather see others in strife than might?
He walked a gentle path, unaware that the move
Sought to lure his blood towards streets to ooze—
As if his death could improve
The incredible mess they deal with this afternoon.
A life of hatred only brews and brews.
It's never right to implore those bored;
Who chooses to adore such a futile chore?
Our paths to the shore
May be troubled by moors,
But we can always, eternally,
Comments about this poem (Ignore by Edwin Cordero )
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