No moore

[Scripter]

Diving into the nether realm of possibility
trapped inside the thoughts lost in me
the wake of dreams crashing like a wave of seas
smiling at the pains of inevitability
I put two cents in losing senses not content
the constant losses are reshaping
what once was whole now gaping creed
on a journey seed applauding a busy bee
as snakes slither round without sound the apple tree
a bite crisp sank in like teeth
an widowed like a wither whim death... tasty
while life's bitter but better the mohr we bleed
after all we need not taste but awl to feed
drinking the souls of another being
sapiens without the wise
lies deceive
more land we need...
but the moor land we leave
no growth no hope not man we flee
just plans for morn war the grief
while uncle Sam stands red hands in disbelief
but reports to spread disease
no rapport they cuff more
to decor their sleeves
while they starve intestines enlarging
carnage reviews they're reavers of their own… defeat