Geschrieben von Hiba Khan

My aversion sprouts
It is tiny
And it grows swiftly
A huge cloud forms
That spits darkness and echoes spite

A hole created of despair
I’m about to fly
My wings are cut, but I try
There is no hope of clearance
Of vice and malice

They have ruled us
But now their kingdom knows no bounds
I can’t but despise all
All who have spoken it
Even myself

The one that has no heart seems purer
Obligingly they serve
Shamelessly we accept
What remains is the debris
Left behind by past souls
They contain purity and love
And that is why there is hope for the living

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