​Image Source.​​​

We drank the blood of our forefathers mixing their revenge filled blood with ours

the holy anger in us is burning

and consumed the little shreds of mercy left in us

Our indigenous colonialists

who have nothing but guns for the hungry

whose only thoughts are about death and dying

we release to them our heart fortune

let them harvest blood from the fields of war

and their last banquet shall be their children's blood

and death shall finally bring its dancers and singers

and death shall walk them down to the aisle

with eternal condemnation joining them in devilish matrimony.

​This Post First Appeared Here.​​​

Thank you for your time.

My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.

Still me,

My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.

Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.