A poem and drawings on being ugly

moats are trickling down

moats are trickling down

trees, brittle and brown

moats are trickling down

at court without a frown

moats are tricking down

drink can no be found

parched stares with astound 

stillness all around

the moats trickling down

told there was no crown

yet authority abounds

dressed in dollars and in pounds

moats are trickling down

promises above 

obfuscated love

told rivers would run rough

out the moats trickling down

fickly financed town

severed nerve breakdown 

₿urn water to the ground

moats are trickling down