Thirteen lines rewinding in time somewhere to the edge of your mind.
Your incantations and recitations alleviations of mollified nations.
Sugar coated paste that molds the face of pain.
Its a shame we play this game.
This undignified stance this apathetic trance of nuance;
verify and falsify the truth floating by. Like a disease in this morbid air. No one wants to breath no one wants to care. "It's our land we sow. Our garden we grow. Our knowledge we know. Our life that we chose." This is it now this is the truth- the guilt played out on the souls of our youth.
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