Sense of

Jhon Carlo

In a postapocalyptic world

a child never forget

the sound of bullets

killing his friends.

 

In that kind of planet

nothing have sense,

just exist hate

and for love not pray.

 

Kill is a form to express

when everything is wrong

in that sick world.

 

Death is something to accept,

survival is a way to live,

steal is for get

the most important things.

 

Environment is disgusting,

the lands no have life,

the air repulsive

and oceans are dead.

 

For nobody is important

that nothing have sense,

'cause that world

came to an end.

  • Autor: Jhon Carlo (Seudónimo) (Offline Offline)
  • Publicado: 24 de agosto de 2013 a las 14:23
  • Comentario del autor sobre el poema: This is my vision of an unrealistic world. Regards to those who read me ^^
  • Categoría: Sin clasificar
  • Lecturas: 82
  • Usuarios favoritos de este poema: El Hombre de la Rosa
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Comentarios +

Comentarios1

  • El Hombre de la Rosa

    The powerful force of your great looks in your poem poetry friend Jhon Carlo
    Greetings of love and friendship
    Críspulo your friend

    • Jhon Carlo

      Thanks my friend Críspulo
      Regards



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