educativepoems.blogspot.com

What music are you playing for the dying souls? You blind horns. You kept your home secured with an iron gate while you left your tools with an armor of destructions. You sang songs of promises, while your tools cows of destruction dances into wine and left their tomorrow under contempt. Power does not go to the grave, sing songs of good works because power is just a visitor to men.

Can you machine me to fit into those dreams i always dream about. can you machine my eyes that i could possible see my back? can you machine my legs ? that i could walk more faster than those big cat in the forest can you machine my hands to become univasal that I could do all things without failure. can you machine my brain to become more than a genius, solving problems without endering the life of that innocent soilder. Do not machine my dark skin because is isolator against fear and weekness teacher teacher kindly machine because my dreams is to be in big palace making some compatible mechanical decision to end the stress of mankind. thank you.