that’s what it sounds like
nothing we’ve known
the truth it seems emerges from
something we’ve never seen

To be quaint and frank,
I feel no pain
but I do acknowledge that my arms are tired
From digging this grave

When will I get to sleep in my bed
and transcend this earthly flow
How else can I be left alone in my head
Than to rest six feet below

Does it confuse you to see ink and blood on the same page
Does it concern you to imagine
faux reproduction of the insane
the soul is the scene, the world is the stage

There’s no more sorrow
The lamb has been slain
For us, it’s a won revolution tomorrow
If we allow peace and Love to remain

I’m no longer at a loss for words
I want to say we’ve been betrayed by leaders
But we’ve betrayed ourselves worse
the hate is so ugly, and it’s a fire
Why do we fuel it

Why do we not starve it’s desire?
No more -isms , just men living free
To all those with answers I ask this.
To be, or not to be?