Prodigal children.
If only we'd beg,
the Earth to forgive,
would she remember,
her prodigal kids...
If we were all friends,
would all else change?
Would all of us be awkward?
Would all of us be strange?
If people and stigmas,
against all different odds,
did not exist,
would people be gods?
No I think not,
as people are dreams,
of infinite passions,
caught in between...
The possibilities many.
The possibilities few.
The possibilities endless...
For it is all up to you...
the Earth to forgive,
would she remember,
her prodigal kids...
If we were all friends,
would all else change?
Would all of us be awkward?
Would all of us be strange?
If people and stigmas,
against all different odds,
did not exist,
would people be gods?
No I think not,
as people are dreams,
of infinite passions,
caught in between...
The possibilities many.
The possibilities few.
The possibilities endless...
For it is all up to you...
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What makes the saints?
PoetD.W. Scarlett
Spring
PoetD.W. Scarlett