My first poem:
The Tail of The man
Hurtful is, indeed, the fall of man
He, who knew grace, has lost his embrace
Looking out for his own reflection, he will find none
Throwing out the key, he was the one
He is here, he is there: he is everywhere
All in one, the creator and the creature
No arrival, no departure
Of his own free will, he decided to endure
His tale is one of chasing it around, like the dog
Blank pages covered in fog
Don’t look further, he is his own thug
All this, in the end, being worth but a shrug
From the Garden of Eden, he is banned
Having to face time and space
Never wo(a)ndering, he is done
What he takes as punishment is merely fun
The answer in himself, he bears
But knows Lucifer’s name is use as a slur
In the mouth of those who are unsure
And whom are still trying to figure
Some believe they are bug,
Some that they are rug
And others that they are jug,
But after all, oui all breath of the same smog
Unknown " Lazard *NFS*" Inspired
- 16 years, 3 months, 11 days ago
