what do you think of this poem?

T

Thomos

New member
shoes are made of brick
wind blows harder than you believe
wouldnt even give you prize to a dog
jewels are but mud on a grave
spoon bends back over a naked flame

speak falls on death ears
as the echo riches fade
unclothed woman tries
the sound of my heritage
bleeds through blank text

enrobed through naked
taken but left
crashed over
some refuse too learn
others cant
 
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