fie upon you
here begins the poem :
So dawns the prehistoric age
the beast roams the land
stares into the water
the narcissistic creature.
and so he boasts against
the writer.
absolutely awful and distasteful and plague
And so he talks
and speaks proudly announcing his
finger prowess
to imagine that
a beast a creature
reaching an ecstacy
unknown off, an obscene connection.
evolution, Darwin's origin of species
a scientific truth
in the mind of a warrior
is useless
he is only to be left there a corpse of his own
own dead body
so he pulls his anger and strikes
in vain
against a hard wall he breaks a finger or two
a ridiculous relationship
him and the wall.
so the writer laughs
loudly
and scoffs the poor soul
and so now he searches
for truth in what remains of his heart
to find
love ? or loss?
nothing left but a three fingered salute to the glorious dead.
so you think I can't one up you ?
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