Poetic-Verses

AM NOT I TALKING TO DEMONS?

To my commandment's worst morning
A song of reference point
Stuck on knee wholly
My yellow delight.

Sort of turns of laughter
A bribe of thanks
Hoofs and keep no mortars
A pact of bats.

Prevent the days they mourn?
Odor of dance
Grind the partridge to dust
For hell is back

Look; I don't want insults;
Carry your bag
Quickly from where you came
To sender, back.