See does one not, the fears of mortal man?
Taste of forbidden fruit from waste, bet you can.
Hear the screams hiss and growl, is it near or be it far?
Scent of garden roses, yet all has gone to mar.
Away you graze the heavens, deep beneath the sod.
Touch the mangled flesh on the face of claimed god.
Comments about this poem (Seven Dreams by Dewayne Jordan )
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