Tattered World
How far have we fallen into this abyss, to let things get like this?
What did we miss?
Are we not all, in this great myth of make this or that great again?
Lacerated with this hated bellow of cries and screams.
Running through these streets veins, filled with collusion.
Yet, peering into the eyes and hearts of man.
Does it seem to be, this onslaught of emotional intrusion.
Bursting with flare and vigor, not knowing who, may be the one to pull the trigger.
The violence has become critical, almost quite biblical.
Hypocritical are these words of fair and equality.
Silently are those footsteps that have vanished within the night.
Whatever happened to those voices, to their choices?
The reactions of fear, leaves you dead inside.
Publicized for the mire interaction that hold so many infractions.
The world is tattered woven into a stitch of its own internal fabric, eating away at itself.
Chasing wealth but it seems to move in stealth.
Close to my own imagination, far away from your hand to my hand.
Runs deep, like sands through the hourglass.
While the lens remain stained as we continue to maintain.
Frame a picture of us on the surface, but this selfie ends with much tragedy and you still can't see this tattered world of insanity.
Darius Howard 4/4/19
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