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Literature Text
A clear, blank mind,
the most beautiful thing;
a canvas, a page,
devoid of all sin.
To mark the white space,
to design him anew;
to create our own slave;
what else would we do?
And glancing around
we find millions more;
and we write on them too,
as we gather for war.
the most beautiful thing;
a canvas, a page,
devoid of all sin.
To mark the white space,
to design him anew;
to create our own slave;
what else would we do?
And glancing around
we find millions more;
and we write on them too,
as we gather for war.
© 2011 - 2024 ZacharyHogan
Comments3
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your poems rock