Greetings, by George Chow
With words chosen by fate.
And the font type made effords.
Morning, afternoon, nights are definite.
Maybe its the weather amazed.
Yet some times the truth are plain.
Obscure when speak from the hearts.
A sentence fumble out from acts.
How can i accept wisdom if there is cursed.
Best of all we are all alienated.
Wide eyes little mouth with beeps.
Only greed for electron charges.