This poem was channeled by me for someone… These feelings are some mans…Not mine, but I felt that I needed to write them
Solid grey
The clang of scraping metal
A full Moon lit our breathing force
As the still clashed and no remorse
Thirteen degrees and no clouds seen
Working by nights accomplishing a means
Hungary mouths of little children demanding more
What does it take from a man who married a dank whore
Leaving lives hanging without any thoughts of responsibilities
Leaving me, but whats worse, leaving them
Children, four soulless Bastards
No mother:
She left
The sounds of the clanging of scraping steel
Nails on a chalkboard is how I feel
Strangely The Moon watches my every move
It knows how a lost desperate man broods
And I work by night to feed the birds
My ears ringing from hearing dirges
Meshing the frozen gloved fingers tightly
Soon to enter home to kiss the four darlings
And send them to school while sleeping in daytime
And the hour glasses sands move one grain interchanging
Until four pm comes daily as it does regularly
Voices of the hungry enter
Begging their daddy not go into the winter
The hammers won’t wait
For the father’s little break
He hugs them goodbye and puts them to bed
And the grandmother sleeps cuddled next to their heads
Sounds like a hard life.
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Yes it does
I must have channeled this voice
I felt it strangely
Never been around a mine or steel mill
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