bless the martyr

could we possibly possess the intelligence, the honor?



kill the lovely

the hungry, could a single human being deflect color schemes, poverty?



we are the people

the united and misguided, could the greed and royalty scatter brain cells, leaving us all once again divided?



pistol-whip the grey fumes,

in great fear of impending doom, could it be that it was simply the thinnest shade of gloom?



superficial, the beings

of catastrophe



needs, of the few

engulf patriotic existence



diminish the flames

beside the dying fire



the Devil's hand is dealt

The obvious weapon just beneath his belt, pure hell

as broken angels plead, they yell

protect the remains of the heartfelt world from grunge