Such a saintly day,
faintly screaming
that happens to be
all gray and the
we must go to pray.
We begin to stray
away from what
we know and and the slay
that we try to
convey from the con.
The clay comes from
the dawn of time,
we tend to be such
a spawn that keeps
us from drowning and
we try to yawn.
Such a saintly day,
faintly screaming
that happens to be
all gray and the
we must go to pray.
Beautiful!
LikeLiked by 1 person