The Hunted Herd of the Unheard

Morning’s expectant of happiness
Afternoons where the flowers bloom with tender rain drops
Evenings were we never remember regrets
For we truly lived too our best
A night of peace and rejoice, where pain or hurt are words
We have not heard
For I and you, him and her,
Ponder in the wonderment of happy herd
This a Wishful dream in the hunters world.

Follow @SirChrisDaRebel

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