The Bleeding Atmosphere

THE BLEEDING ATMOSPHERE. It's so terrible, To see the sky dark While the moon falls apart To which the sun defrauds And the ground began to wet. To where it loses every solid Stage beneath the earth. Why these reflections Seem as a habiliment? Isn't the dilemma prescribed? An epithet in the blue cloud An epitaph to lust: our body Is made from the mattresses of Poverty to where we're like a Dead meat in the mouth of a wounded snake. Justice paved the way to no sight. Further to where a torrid light Our future remains traumatic. We strive for life like punk. Our words and cry sound. In their ears, as a pun, I couldn't narrate a bit. The pain is so huge! It's eaten from the bowl of Oppression: a stone that torments Our hearts are filled with the garbage of depression. ©J. Momodu Kromah, Jr.