many writes poetry now,
many writes about life and they wish they
were not alive but when they hears a gunshot nearby
they run and leave their shoes behind.
many writes about love,
love is a bastard and am sure they are
not related with love but they thought
they know love.
many writes about friendship,
friendship is a son of a bitch without trust
and most of them have learned never to trust.
many writes about death,
death is the wages of sin and even
if they abstain from sin; one day they will
many writes about nature,
nature is a trick and he has learned
beyond death and they will never learn