Poem -

Thomas

Thomas

Treat your mother like the homeless , wash her feet before she goes now tell me what you sow ....idols run rampant silver and gold , over the womb and a beating heart , doesn't money buy you a clear conscience? 
Treat your home like a wasteland , burn her trees and chase away the life , fire eats as she snarls .
Treat the tree of life as light . 

 

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