Some men ease themselves like setting hens into the nest of death.
Some men ease themselves like setting hens into the nest of death.
Death was a friend, and sleep was Death's brother
Sure, cried the tenant men, but it's our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if it's no good, it's still ours. That's what makes it ours-being born on it, working it, dying on it.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories