Man will never stop
He will keep murdering earth
He thinks he will come out on top
Better is what he thinks he will birth
A poetry book (mainly) about man's destructive nature and my weirdness.
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I have my hiding spot My sweet solitude is where I go No fears of getting bullied or even shot No one but me knows of it, and I plan to keep it so
Someone got tired of me And I cut off ties with that punk I didn't use any kind of plea Because my dignity was already sunk
I do not like having many people around But I hate losing a friend I've lost several in the past, and it brought my head down It drove me around the bend
When I need a break from the parasites of this place The place called earth, which is hurt My sweet solitude gives, and it doesn't insult my face Nor does it pull up some kind of dirt
