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They read in the papers and hear on the air
Of stealing and killing and crime everywhere
They sigh and say as they notice the trend,
'This young generation, when will it end? '
But can they be sure that it's our fault alone,
That part of the problem they should claim as their own?
Are they less guilty who place in our way,
Objects and subjects that lead us astray?
Too much hating, not enough love
Maybe we should give peace a little shove
Too much money and too much idle time
Too many movies of passion and crime
Too many books not fit to be read
Too much evil in what we hear said
Too many children encouraged to roam
Too many parents who never stay home
We don't make the movies or publish the books
We don't paint cool pictures of gangstas and crooks
Drugs and alcohol, they trouble our brain
They're done by older folk who are greedy for gain
Delinquent teenagers, oh how you condemn
The sins of a nation and you blame it on them
By the laws of the blameless, the savior made known~
OverlookedI dont want to click this.
I dont want to read your writing.
It isnt a colourful drawing
With a story told in one glance.
There are words here to decipher,
And reading them once might not be enough.
If I cant see into your soul in one glance
Maybe your soul isnt worth being seen.
So Ill go my merry way
And type out a comment to that generic Naruto fanpic
And never wonder what precious insight
Your words have to offer.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More