Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The percept of the mind, is given by the consent of the eye. I wonder about mans words, that are built and built upon lies. So, so many words upturned by stool that flies with nothing but indescence, made to rise. Yes they're made for you to uphold your why's and they're made for the scoff of ugly wives. Yes, they're made for you and every whine. They're made for me to turn my head to the skies, and just listen to God's cries. My broken english is induced by the feinish pride of those who sigh. My broken soul is the reason why I'm petrified at my own sight. And through it, the truth is found in the eye of every lie turned white. 

© Jorge Romero Campos, Dicha Shin