The Figment Poem by Alexandrian Ink

Across a rocky vent
there comes a sweet sound
so calm an lenient
perhaps someone is around.

A boy who on a little chair sits
giving commands with his scepter
with his scepter he treats
his adversaries with pains more tender.

Over, high above the sky
a second a decade mile
the waves could see me fly
I gave the wave a rich smile.

Then to the under world
how can I but explain
things are irreversibly odd
all the struggles in vain.

A lame is lame forever
neither could a deaf hear
a dumb could speak but never
noise is the worst you can bear.

NO, I pitched my tent
to a distant land
Never to dream again.

#Itz_Don_Alex

June 28