Discipline
He smiled with a frown
whilst discipline is an empty bottle of sorrow
we all drown
even if we could reach and grab the hand of air
it wouldnt matter because most would seem it to be dirty
and disfigured like a veteran died but lived with the devil of love
and all the cocks and all the pussy of above
couldnt have the discipline of a lion in the midst of a pool with roaches of goats and doves.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world