Symphony of the Sunrise

In a world where hate reigns in whirling waves, as winter wreaths form chilling chains. I seek refuge from weeping war strains; my one desire to vacate the poverty lane. These gliding lights we glimpse in the atmosphere aren't honest or humane. On the screen, they consume champagne whilst we hunt for remote grains. My kin is slowly sinking into the sad soil from the purple pair’s pesticide campaign. I paint my canvas of poetry in pigments of dismal despair. They are the only words my brain can declare, I scrutinize them, seeking a breath of fresh air. My life has become a blue, teary-eyed, sordid affair. The only time I open my spirit and stare is at dawn when the palls play the symphony of the sunrise glare, It's the only light I want to see and hear because I know it's golden and fair.