Cute, he is

Black is the colour of his fur

He is the shape of a Loaf 

The shape of my heart

Cat, he engulfs my fart

He has cute Toe beans

wheat, to sustain life

seed, the beginning of life

flour, the beginning of cooking to support the future generations

bun, solid circular bread

bagel, circular bread but empty

Loaf, bread waiting to be sliced

Interpretations, emotions, provocations, no less.

Meanings shifting without end; never getting older.

A voice that reigns over sensation; too powerful to suppress.

Graceful lines dancing across layers upon layers,

The canvasses and palettes know no borders.

Colours and tints merging in an extravagant disposition;

Though chaotic it may be, there always will be ambition.

The eye of the viewer is which decides,

The soul of the piece, where meaning resides.

Endless hours of inspiration revealing a masterful oeuvre;

Art, the medium, canvas and passion; it’s own culture.

Childish and dishonest to the point where they could fabricate almost anything and get away with it.

Their words covered in strategic mass that can make those around them have a feeling of trust, when in reality their words are unsafe.

Falsifying the things we call true, and twisting those meanings and actions to those of something so secretive most can never uncover.

The propaganda of these mysterious beings is unknown, their true personalities hidden by the words they spill from their mouths, sometimes to the point where they don’t even know themselves anymore.

A disguise shadowing the figure they used to be so well known for, the validity being shattered and only being enhanced with deception. 

Making them face the wall they built for so long only to see it crumble in a matter of seconds when their identity is stolen away with their perception. 

The world cup is the most honourable trophy players want to hold 

The ball can be many different colours, sometimes bold

Some watch the beautiful game and some play it, even in the cold. 

There are many different concepts in soccer such as shooting, passing, dribbling, defending, and pace and the ball rolls. 

It takes time to perfect your skills and become gold.

Falling slow

Falling to the ground 

Always so silky

Always so pretty
Always looks Milky

When it snows,

Winter time has come.

A cold blanket, on the ground

Freezing to to the bone,

But soft and fluffy,

And can be very puffy.

It may be annoying to shovel.

It may be frustrating to leave. 

But it only lasts for a little while,

So enjoy it while you can!

Ashen clouds cover the skies

From them rains hail and sleet

Robotic officials try to hide their lies

We lie here, wounded and ill

They sit comfy around warm fires

Their deadpan voices continue to shill

Ours afflicted with illness they've inspired

My feet have been rendered raw from permafrost

And my eyes weak from numbing 

Their souls unhealthy from past allies crossed

And their minds weak from the monsters they’re becoming

Frigid cold has poisoned the village

Officials wealthy off the murky profit

They only make it worse with pillage

We want out of this troubled world but have no way off it