There were no more ways for the buffalo to roam
Fences stopped their grazing and wild land migration
Farmers began to cultivate their food with chemicals
And soon they became desired by man for their very skin
That kept them warm through the winter
Leaving the only thing they couldn’t be robbed of
Their soul, their wild and herd driven soul
Alone, rotting on the fields forever.
Tag: rob
Archives (day 1877)
The dangers of being someone
Often robs my moments
Of what I feel should be cataclysmic
Orgasmic
Ecstatic moments of breakthrough clarity,
And leaves them used up
Neatly piled in a maintained room
Settled and organized
And dated, for archival purposes.