True Dear Friend Poem by Louis Borgo

I do not wish to become bibilical but this text require careful wording, what is a true friend with a kindom of wolfs and over sheperd by demons, wait is this ficition, eyes that hold shelter to black skull to a new up rising, birds that hymn that heal with whistles of love of crimes, that is all on film or maybe we all are guest, looking for gravity.

Everyman is made different so a silly superstition would say but what would true making of a man, take pain and the up most rooting of lost land, mimic it as quick sand, we start to man and fan to tans and this here eyes are a shame to cry because who is left here to a dress man but a man.

A man of his word lost translation no matter the hand to si met in time to say my dear true friend. You see love exist in the mind of most the wicked creatures it leaves being that of a man or sand you see the comeing of balance as we walk through this journey of time on up grant highest kind please caught it and listen to gesture to whisper.

In equality that run in my vain pitch black stump and humble come visit the hand of time new meet to pebbles that man share to eat those of yes of yester years, sounds reflect this bond so odd but push together otherwise known as a letter.

and as thin as a vine and split ritten and cryed, we square off to fought for very last time and i ask can you be so kind to push me shrone because nothing comes of a last war but we should had argued and q as men govnor to and oh what memory we share.

daring as a push we all take that leap of faith, and it barrier our soul and push we need to married our soulmate (best man)

Victory or shy as wheat we as men became a shrine and no matter how little the cry the path we journey was never shortly departed, True Dear Friend to the end This Is The Reason I 'written'(pen left to pad)