The cold smiles and fake greetings of happiness upon faces of Hippocrates. Everyone seemed happy in their world where reality of emotions were twisted for false appearances which eluded everyone into believing in what they saw as happiness. In truth they were all just lonely souls of deceit. <br /> <br />Ignored by the hatred of my heart, this fatal saga of life that flourishes by selfishness. We feed our souls the distasteful hate of God. Who am I? My skin is old and dressed in age. I have not lived a day in my life in my rugged suit. Covered in the saliva of satin, freshly born spawn satisfied by their own quest for their soul. <br /> <br />The faceless, the nameless, the innocent shall all fear the image of mortality, their blood that covers the cold surface of the world shall raise the angels in arms of vengeance against my anger, man has left his stain in Gods palm.<br /><br />Melvyn Mohan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sweet-traitors/
