February 15, 2017
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All great works are morbid truth,
For truth is always best.
And when the horrid deed is done,
Only then, our pens shall rest.
While words are such a frightful beast
An art of blinded sight,
Much we can say, in our time on earth,
On paper wings our souls' take flight.
Bitter wars waged by fear,
Determine only who is left, not who is right.
Oblivious peace in dreaming child,
Harmonious two throughout the night.
Famine and murder, fear and revenge,
Battered, crimson sky,
Truth falls flat onto her face,
And in those who need it most, she dies.
Twisted, evil brutes are we
Yet we claim so perfect in our eyes.
We are right, and we are best,
You will always hear us shout,
But the unknown killings, lies, and hate
Would suffocate us in doubt.
Yes the greatest works of our race
Reveal the terrible lies,
How nobody knows what is the truth,
Because to save herself she hides.
Our world is fading within history,
The track is on repeat,
We fight, we die, but some stay alive
Within our cowardice and retreat.
Children taught to save the earth,
Had we not been taught the same,
Yet here we are less trees, less air,
Less of everything, but more insane.
Illness seizes all the rest,
In the medicine, endless pills.
When those don't work, can't fix the pain,
To the floor the red years spill.
What have we done,
This can't be true,
What you have done to you?
Such evil you inflicted on yourself.
Our society shamed by disgust
Envy, rage, complete hatred,
We are useless,
All of us.
Tears flow down from fatherless faces,
And ---- becomes a sick, sadistic trend,
------, gangs and riots fill the streets
When will this lunacy end?
As gun smoke pours from  barrels of rust.
We are left all alone,
In that time you can think,
And maybe in time we can trust.
Truth befriends those willing to see,
Those who won't fight, but won't back down.
Children are molded into an image,
And those who break it will truly be free.
We are told to withhold ourselves inside,
To be perfect, kind, and honest, equally whole.
But at the end of the day we are empty,
Our hearts much too guilty to even come home.

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