The Evils Poem by John N Mate
The Evils
All riches
By other's sorrows gain
Are always found in vain
In ditches.
All dwellings
Built by labours unpaid
Will e'er be reign'd by hate
And fightings.
All faces
That with proud gaze e'er fix'd
Shalt be made to be mix'd
with faeces.
All that hearts
Painted with dark colour
Apt to be in dolour
Ne'er with lights.
16-Dec-2007
Friday, April 18, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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4/23/2024 11:30:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
