BOOM and the Bloop
Another 11 deaths of me. Twenty one Sun Nine months the twenty three of me.
The life of pencil has turned to number.
The gold and sweat are meaningless.
The Southern Wood was the aim, but it has burnt to ashes.
Bury me under the hot ashes, while seeking from the forest of sins.
Breaking the bond of Blood, the rules have been bend.
The powerful God has given His yes thourgh the bless of my life.
The parents have been granted and the motherless descendants making their paths.
Forgiveness for not walking the righteuos road, as the present become memoir.
............................................................................................Exhausted.....
