Heads Bowed (Breakdown)

Existence sprout from follicles as life begins to grow Her bosom reeks of fertile soil, her smile reminds of birth The shallow grave of glowing pride shall question what we know When sitting at the breakfast table of our mother earth Who strips her soul and bears our burden, shadowed in turmoil She feeds our minds and bodies and in rest becomes our home We rape and take advantage as we plunder and we spoil We leave the future seedlings lost and fearful of their own While looking out for number one, she dries her eyes the most Her peaceful heart grows weaker by a sickened selfish thirst Recycle what was taken, lifeless souls return to compost Filled to the brim, the clogged cesspool becomes a thorny curse Memories of those forsaken wonder in a drunken daze Sweetened pulp and thunderous gulps of potions most unneeded Tombs and monuments engraved, stumbling through a cryptic maze Dreams conclude as anguished corpses pleas remain unheeded Vengeance of our hearth and home abused from deep inside Scarred and dented pride has forced her hand to demonstrate Her finger’s on the trigger, contemplating suicide The life she came to love is now a tortured state of hate Remembrance resurrected and acknowledged as a dome She grips the loaded tool of fortune, then begins to shake Trembling, turning in their graves, the children now must roam In shame, disturbed by what has caused their mom to quake