[Athanasius]

A little free-form and fun...

It's soft, pure, and evil
extracted from the wet
brought into the cold
slapped at first breath

another thing to stumble
across the green fields
and leave a trail of spew
in its all too wide wake

it smells musk and sugar
it smiles with closed eyes
at my touch and kiss
it pollutes the air

another one of his sons
born to die, to fade
its time has just begun
as has its pain

Thanks.

[Jeff]

its is possesive, it's means it is

[Athanasius]

There we go...