Fhc

Faith, Hope and Charity, are Sisters of make believe, without eyes, while our Children now build their futures in Castles of sand They are perched on a digital beach, and nothing fills their eyes In those empty spaces, Teachers wander, mouthing fragile woke words while the entire time, falling over their own hands, bleak dreams, and chalk Parents believe Children are free, only in that they choose their names But ! Their number comes from compulsory control, ah, wait, For most Coffee doesn't cut it anymore, and the needle does the spark-less bits of their love night, once again lays shallow in the cold ashes of realisation and the morning, again ! After the blur has cleared, trudging feet mount the twisted horizon grains of that stinging sand blows into the faces of numbers, who try In amongst, crumbling lives, that are just driftwood and statistics.