Dungeon
By: The Red Cat Jazz of Love
Sitting, before the board up shack of my prisoner thoughts.
The drain of my ego, is shattered and a 9 mm Beretta
is camping out in the Taliban of Canaan to undo the canker worms
that sworn into secrecy saying
Ah… I can't see the face of my destiny despite I own it...Unknown.
I gave directions to the years and the days I will come down
in turmoil because the genes of curse is a blood line that
I have a loan on despite I inherited,
but I own it unknown. I flee on the run
to Vaasa but my credit card swiped the total of hypocrisy
putting me in chapters of macabre.
My face is ashamed of the name of The United States of America
because some where in the tribes of chaining my ancestor papa life
I lost by un given choice to know my roots despite I own it
Through this troubled life zone. The strength of my bones
can’t be called by 1411 information because my dungeon pain
Is unlisted. I walk as an emotional thrift sale zombie
closed in four womb walls of my own.
Because I can't see the face of my destiny despite I own it...Unknown.
Neo Soul Poetry Artist Side
Julia L. Clark
© Julia L. Clark Registration Number TXu-331-190, All rights reserved



my favorite





ed this piece with your emotions and talent to express!


thanks 

thanks beautiful 


thanks knuckle head 

30 old applause
