Clay

An obelisk raises hopes, a bridge connects souls,

An orchid leaves its scent, characters will not bend,

Roads always diverge, around a tree love struggles,

Hurting it, bond cutter knives, no deep repent.

Another scene made of clay, hot, colder, next day.

A child raises his hand to a passing young woman,

Seated at on old stairway entrance, she is not seen.

Seven years, has lost her mom due to attack of a man,

Angry child climbs the Victorian stair losing self-esteem

Another scene made of clay, very hot, colder next day

This is not what I fucking want to connect me to, I say

Another scene made of clay, very hot, colder next day

Fishes jump out of the pond, sun bright along the way

No subject may attend such gathering of inconsistency.

There may be whores, bulls, pinnacles, tools, watches and more.

Apples, pineapples, ascent to macho pichu, sign of Ophiuchus.

Relatively slow, the serpents most wished capability turned it sore,

Cause everybody wanted the death alive, well and playing baseball.

At the balcony a mother of five cries for not having lost them all.

Another scene made of clay, very hot, either way, colder the next day

Another scene made of clay, very hot,

either way, colder the next day

O why you force me to write

Things so patentely not bright

No interest whatsoever, if I may?

Another scene made of clay

One must be offered to

A entity of the underground,

Cold is far from evil compound.

 Your path isn’t just a day,

Why do you loose it

Never a word about birdlings

A praise for his mother

An offer to the Gods

Describing the youngsters sons he should

Some leashes are made of clay

Some broke, others just decay