kiambang.

a hidden grave will hide your body maybe someday they'll erase your story weapon and wealth, the luxurious property will no longer keep you company the wounded hearts will move eventually their tears will seep through the dry soil of the country the mourners will forget their condolence and sympathy but the earth, the unknown cemetery where you lie in mystery won't forbid the revelation of reality O' Qaddafi who knows the matter of your soul in front of The Almighty...

In the deep dark of the dead dawn A forest of grief has grown Rest in rage, a corpse of Eucalyptus slow dancing in a hiatus The moon up so high in the sky hides his eyes away behind lashes of a shameful decay refuses to see how her body sways The riot rhythmic moves of her stained feet mopping the floor of the rooted, tangled deceit the dusty ashes of her lost sanity appeals for a fleet I remember how she opens her eyes when she cries Trying to roll back the tears forming a lake beneath her bosoms Her white porcelain skin benumbed by the gloom of doom Her torn red frolic dress falls revealing her sanctum; a heart as hollow as a phantom I remember her crooked brown brows as her emotion frowns, with arms hugging her disowned broken boughs thick black blood runs from her mind to her chin and she grins as she mouths the word 'sin'. She dances to direction of the ocean of tears and blood of the ancient mourners She sinks deeper as she cries louder but nob