Monday, August 10, 2015

Kalashnikov


Waves swaying in the sea,
Depths of the huge ocean,
These only these hearts see.
Make me fly high, this can,
To the tall, blue mountains.
Things that my soul contains.

Where the cold mist, shadows,
And cold woods creep the soul,
And the devourer grows.
A world that can make whole.
These that make power weak,
Melting for gold I seek

And the waves grow stronger,
Powerful like anger,
Chilling like a stranger.

These make me say strange things,
Waiting 'til I get there
On not-so-thoughtful wings.
There's a charm in unfair,
And there's equality
In too much quality.
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