May we flow, under this vital force,
Betwixt low, further in this constant flux,
Wining angry appetites to laws and theories,
Serving hungry equations with kwara's delicacies,
We are strong, as the sensitive edge of a walnut,
We are drugged, hyped by kitchen smokes in uncompleted hut,
Leave us now, never to home us away,
Hang course now, ever to have us sway,
We are thirsty, dehydrated by the water we couldn't drink,
You are chesty, having emptied those drums; this thought we think,
Allowing strange currency in this new state of pennilessness,
We drift away, de-valuing the familiar in void awareness,
Set me high on this coat of time,
Sniff but don't sigh at the perception of lime,
Asthma is a labor, but we pay her no dime,
Despite her goodworks, her workmanship's always a crime,
In this river to the north,
The truth of flow severs away to dot,
They are forbidden,
Just like every 'royally exiled' is hidden,
It's abomination, yet still given,
It's free, even the beggars don't beg it much,
By its tree, their ego prefers the root at such,
Now that it's a commoner fruit,
Let's sell it even to its root,
And when the appearance becomes costly,
They'll stop by just to buy the rotten ones hastily,
The penniless shall everly remain,
Beholding in a mirror; what they once took for vain.
WRITTEN BY:
Nameless Calvary
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