I am straining to hear the words that you do not say
between these lies you tell.
For hidden in your eyes is the truth of passion
but agression from your lips does spew.
Lately, it has been such a chore to connect
these lines that draw us near and though I
may have found a way to bleach white
these stains- the careless errors we have made,
perhaps it is best we let them stay
as reminders of this mess we wish to escape.
We could say we are not at fault,
rest our haughty laughter amongst
the ashes of the beggars; they were to blame.
How foolish they were to turn up their eyes to us-
the precious youth of the future,
full of promise, ha!
Full of corrupt, malevolent justice indeed!
This generation so proud but ever so precarious.
We support every cause that offers no support
only pull us asunder, and still
we built our foundations on faulty ground,
grow lazy and more lazy still.
Make less investments in necessity,
and bitch about the lack thereof.
We are not making history, nor repeating it;
we are ensuring the definite end of possibility.