The Poverty In Poetry Poem by James McLain

I make all your souls no love to disappear.
I am not always sure I love him dear and you.
Appealing to words that you must never fear.
Vagina and the abusers whom inside you hid.
The abuses you sufferer wrongs you never did.

Does your preaching
preacher in church comfortable make you sing?
Why is that your fears and dreams.
The sting of the bee by she when you are straight.
But arrows bend inside your mad this time.
Green bananas golden cabana your screams.

When simple thoughts and kind each dreams were fair.
If you were abused
by them you must then come hear out and share.
Your reward is that the people will all know.
Erased released the cat is out of the bag.
You have the right to scream and shout about that bag.
Because to much rain is in the water.

To many bloody bodies,
have passed beneath each victims bridge.