Updated on December 5, 2017

Crown of the valley.

As it thunders through the valleys of our souls, a hostile force arises and duplicate itself as a collective cancerous cell. This is not our cut-throat. Our wounded souls are. A dimness agglomerated in the already flawed beings. Assembled by the emptiness of a broken frame of mind and blindness of eye.

Fear our pillow. Confusion to tug us in. Hope and illusion - a blanket in the squatter camp. Poverty an anthem of hearts - couple miles apart.

Mix your tears with clay and bless their eyes with the rainbow in your soul. Crown the valley and be made whole.


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