Why do people fight?
In blood do we find peace?
Do we heal our own grief and guilt
By mirroring vicious beasts?
Is it the crack of bones
In the face, when they break?
Or perhaps the trail of tears
Left in out wake?
The human race is smart,
Our servant we've made of the Earth,
But surely there is no other
Now, I know I'm not perfect,
And God knows, neither are you..
But why can't we come together?
As people made innocent and new?
Is it our scars that deceive us?
Should we gouge out our eyes?
Is it our wings that spoil us?
So should we never fly?
But what a waste! What a waste!
A damn pitiful waste it is.
To surrender to faulty solutions,
What so rightfully is his.
Perhaps we need a new battle,
A mountain to climb.
Perhaps the calm has spoiled us,
Into beings incapable of divine.
Surely people will let you down
It's human nature to break.
But oh how we've forgot our duty,
To also mend and to create.
No one is perfect.
Not you, not I.
But we're clipping our own wings,
Like this- we'll never reach the sky.
So come on then peasants,
We poor souls of shame.
Let's peels off the scabs,
And start a new game!
A game where a smile,
Means more than a punch.
A game where giving,
Is better than stealing lunch.
A game where all people,
Open doors for one another.
One where in danger's wake,
We can do more than watch and shudder.
Let's do more- let's rise above!
Let's trade the hatred of a punch,
For the love of a hug!!!
YOU ARE READING
The Searching
PoetryYou've searched and searched, A great good, ole long time. For something tangible, something real- Something only you may find. Perhaps I can help you- Give you places to look.. Admits my words which fall like heaven, Coated in hell, this is my boo...
