Poetry generator

Every Son Is A Signal


Return to the homeland of the defenders.
For poppy was wounded and morally neutral.
And around my hammock, during the holiday, I woke up naked
and full of wonder.

Not to develop or even meet
the alcove of one who transforms
behind me in a vicinity or discovering to a one.
Of promising plum, spirit
of the shadess of transparent,
wiped aunt blood, your kisses
mingle into exile
and a droplet of bolt
of gold, with remnants of the night.
Here I am, a delicate nose fell in the archipeligos of affection.


The I in splendor from her breath and her shoulder expand
snows of the earth.
The river bank plan that has everyone directionless.

A thunder of utensils the order of the starss in the sky a loaf of bread baked with callous sincerity and salt.
Has the divisions been protected with mysteries?

I wish to make a triangle
around, and every faith, many
times hidden in a ivory architecture.

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