Craziness is just honesty that's been wrapped in different tones,
'Cause we all feel the same damn thing we've read from all these tomes,
We strive to be well-read, but we're still out there fighting all these wars,
Trying to prevent them, and yet we let them run their course.
Trying to make sense of it, but it's hard to handle all the fighting,
Wishing peace was easier, but battles hit way more than lightning,
Looking at the map, we're thinking "which of these are our real friends?"
Why are we dealing with this crap when we could be tying these loose ends?
Battles start, but why do we embellish them?
Why is it that we take these fights and relish them?
Why bother with it all, when it all ends up the same?
We kill millions of our own, yet there's still no peace to claim.
YOU ARE READING
Yours Truly, Me.
Poetry" I can lie just like they tell me, or I can break this crazy spell/ I can fake my way to heaven, or take my sorry ass to hell, " -Yours Truly, Me.
