They worshiped the tower of rubble and hay and wept in the beds that were already laid. We scorned at the king and laughed of his right, our tower then darkened consuming the fight. The actors act had come to an end and the Joker no longer had to pretend. We're numbered as the sands of the seas what really makes one so unique? So tolerance galloped and conquered it's throne while scoffers were lobbying to hide what was shown. The few of the faith were corrupted by mass so the Joker could jest at those who would last.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem