A precious thing
To a precious being
Blood that runs one crimson red
Sweat that runs down one's back
Tears that run down one's face
War, Tragedy, Love, Hope
Shakes their cores
Time drains them continuously
Lives deemed no longer priceless
Greed, Hunger, Disease, Death
Consumes their dark thoughts
Skin more precious than bones
Paper so thin that it slips away in bigger hands
Bigger hands they put themselves in
Bigger hands that now control puppet strings
The higher beings of their religions just shake their heads
Gifts were once meant to be well received
Not chucked away
The gift of life is not a bad one
If certain things will show delight and you wonders in your time
