Divine Decay
The land, where gods once trod
Has kindness withered, lost to rot?
Naivety is not kindness
Trusting is not blindness
Adoption is not a taboo
It is not a crime to have a tattoo.
They crash big trees with veins withered bare,
And all we do is see their dead remains in despair.
They whisper on women, they murmur on the state,
They chatter on the rich, they grumble on the poor’s fate.
They buzz with gossip, they clink their glasses,
Yet fail to see the love that passes.
Their hearts thump with envy, cold and stark,
Yet miss the warmth that lights the dark.
Our income’s judged, our errors scorned,
Yet mirrors crack, their faults ignored.
How dark their hearts, a devil’s delight,
Their words hiss darkness, quench his night.
Kindness is not hard to spread,
A little understanding won’t steal our bread.
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