Monday, July 12, 2010

Perfect misfits

Lives invaded, soil imported and roots shaken, they were all confined within the colonial walls of some-nothings.

The breeze wandering in perplexed thoughts...
The trees, stood still breathing the air that belogned to the museum of morons.

Asphalt, laid on like the red carpet, camouflaged the blood stains.
After all, it was a magical wonder in the making...
And the world watched it with awe.

Like the soil, the breeze, the trees, let's fall prey not again and surrender to where the wild calls.

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