On The Topic

There's a mudslide and the tar oozes southward upon a village of darlings,

a cold stale tear drop from the minds of the trees,

a wet and oily breath from the absence of people,

a heart being stitched with fences and scarred by modern warfare.

The world is a sad face and we are the zits.

Our enemies are made of mirrors.

Our resentment collides with the sun then shoots back to blind us.

There's an abandoned orphanage with all of god’s children,

a joke and pun we can all chuckle,choke, and kick fun with,

a great satire for Kronos to read back on.

The Great Satire.