The too Good to Have a Title Poem

To time a new era of solitude
Where man is known for his bad attitude,
Led by the error of dreams,
Concealed somewhere beneath
The threshold of pain,
betwixt freedom
And eternal reign.
The silence and the innocence
And the privileged machevillan
A sound of a prayer,
A voice of an echo
Echos start first followed by a whistle
Long distance hisses
And short destined miracles.

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