What Are We Doing
Life so blue what have I done to you?
Your daunting frame constricts my days,
And I feel the air in my lungs dissipate,
Cuts so deep I bleed and I weep,
For more than one crushed soul beneath your heel,
Sitting here in my tiny box full of thoughts,
Watching your raging despair and relentless fury,
There is no God that hath made such imperfect savagery,
There is so much we know lost to echoes from the past,
So much we yet don't because our greed is fast,
Blessed with a world so rich and bountiful,
Cursed to be sucked dry by humanity's scoundrels,
When invisible masters tug at the strings,
Half the world bows down and sings,
We're only the architects of our own destruction,
Choosing to trust in stories resurrection,
Instead of trading today's hate for tomorrow's affection,
To live with the knowledge that countless will die only knowing misery,
Is only to hope that my own life will measure to some antonym of our history,
The universe shows us everyday how much there is to discover,
But we spend our time watching and fighting wars with each other,
There's a infinite sky speckled with possibility above,
But we hang our heads low and call this life enough,
This paradox is what drives me to empty pages,
Waiting to be filled with more empty proclamations,
No one will listen and no one will know,
Of a fearful boy's bitter poetry or prose.
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