Washed Shores
Washed upon the shores, the sins
of all the immorality seen
by the eye of
God,
Nothing to truly clean human trash
that appears to stay where
it drifts from a
pod.
No one to confess moral heresy
floating in the waters of
the "self", no one to
confess,
The world keeps circling the sun
and mental trash is born to
continue to righteously
coalesce.
Yorktown Disciple
Washed upon the shores, the sins
of all the immorality seen
by the eye of
God,
Nothing to truly clean human trash
that appears to stay where
it drifts from a
pod.
No one to confess moral heresy
floating in the waters of
the "self", no one to
confess,
The world keeps circling the sun
and mental trash is born to
continue to righteously
coalesce.
Yorktown Disciple
Order # 11181
No
one
to
confess
moral
heresy
one
to
confess
moral
heresy
Yorktown Disciple
Poetizing around the world
Poetizing around the world
©Yorktown Disciple
All rights reserved
All rights reserved
Quatrain of Washed Shores - 11181 - Yorktown Disciple
Poem Sanctum