Where are we now?

Whenever the good are treated like they’ve sinned

As a martyr, it seems, we’ve all been pinned

Even after all the help we lend

It seems we float on, evermore, to our end

Like gentle seeds upon a wrathful wind

Where is justice?

When we ignore all those who have sinned

And as our government, those sinners are pinned

We are being destroyed by this ‘help’ they lend

This greedy wind, will be our black, wicked end

As gentle seeds upon a wrathful wind

But I find no solace in these words I’ve penned

Being just a gentle seed, thrown upon a wrathful wind