Michael Harris Poet Ballad

The Ones Who Had the Whole World

Hour by hour,
Day by day,
Life is like a book,
Some like to say.
Every second, every minuet
A different page is made;
Every year, every decade
Another chapter is laid.
Someone once said,
Or thought just the same,
Life is just like
An extensive game.
There are winners,
There are losers,
There are ones who don’t care,
Yet everyone has supposedly,
A matching pair.
Not every moment,
Is not worthy of glorification.
Especially not some,
In this great nation.
Some men are like gods,
Others like slaves,
Some discard objects,
Others crave.
Yet future is upon us,
And we are doing nothing.
Shouldn’t we leave behind
Our children something?
Yet everyday we kill
Everyday we steal
Everyone doesn’t care
What others feel
In the time of this day
The time of now
We should start changing
Yet some ask “how?”
The only way is this
We start right now
Love, not kill
Give, not steal
Maybe with time
Our hearts will heal
If not our hearts,
Then our planet may
This planet never,
Ever forgets
Rarely does it ever,
Ever forgive
Only we
Are the ones to blame
Only we
Need to claim
The responsibility of such
For we are the ones
the world was ours
do something we must
before this land sours

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