(" Weird Overly Rude Lying Devils ")

In broken fences strong in branches,

Torn.

An hour of decision thwart in pain;

In ellusive tears torn in rage,
With modest manners all in a rush;
Exposed,

We felt the inner tormented fear then fully silenced to a hush.

Among its self illusion proned outer delusion;
Then marked on its blotted page fully intact.
The hour of decision fixed on its mission,
A lone blade of grass that was twisted in the wind;

A papal vow to help summon a passing few,

Some have bitten far off then they actually could chew.

In shaded pine we relax with time;
A lone blade of grass attached in its mast
Sullen briars proned in idol misery,
With sore vex array of a beautiful flower display alone

In Autumn leaves proned to inner tormented need.
Vaniquished from the caged fury of the storms in life.