51A Poem by Ana B.I dropped the Conscience while I was fleeing The Celestial Temple of Cogitation. Mind has done enough sightseeing Of the silent Anarchy’s gestation… Its coordinates has many doorways And yet folks stay clear out of the Mud But oh, the precious Humanity has always Had its tree roots soaked in blood.
© 2017 Ana B.Author's NoteReviews
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23 Reviews Added on September 5, 2017 Last Updated on September 8, 2017 Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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