Poetry

The Darkness of the world's ancient origins

So here, again, we are.
We have gotten this far.
So far, please, don't drop the bar.

We have risen from the ashes.
Bits and pecices of memories flashes.
Away from our bad past, the next generation dashes.

We think we can find peace threw war.
Instead we opened the wrong door.
Striking, rotting our core.

We can't change our past.
People will use it, at us blast.
They won't be the last.

But together we can change the future.
Let them be the abuser.
But take you place as the producer.

Thinking of the loss of all that life, it breaks my heart.
They won't listen to me, another one they go and start.
This plague is just ripping mankind apart.

Now on life we will go.
Where, I don't know.
But down he river of love, I hope we will flow.

Moral: War is a plague. A disease born to tear us apart. Do not let it fool you. They will one day hand us a gun. But I will say I am done.