I have wrote to the roots I find.
But the world seems noisy and unkind.
They would not nourish it to grow.
But the cross means to give birth to lies.
I thought of women cover their faces.
And men doing their choirs.
I thought of kids counting on friends or parents.
And lover counting on God's hands.
All there is to do,
is to build walls to find a secure life.
Human nature is nothing more;
then the choice again of the forbiden fruit.
They may play the play.
Yet I would cherish those freedom.
See through stupidity and wisdom.
Since I know God's love on me never had changed.
And it was all the lies and lusts spreads;
Makes the day unpredicted.