Mother Sick

In her own blood
The search to the lost kingdom begins
The knight that carries the red pigment away from the pump is no where to be found
Night comes shortly

Mother of many tribes
Filled with milk and honey
Diagnosed of corruption-cancer
The father of her children is old and fidget
Odd as it seem
Hurt by her loved children

Drained her of the honey
Left the tap of her milk running
Give up? Never

The red pigment still dripping
She will be back
She is your mother
My mother, Our mother


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