How We Changed When We Lost Our Wings

Spinning, spinning through empty days,

Dancing to a meaningless tune,

That mocks a funeral march.

Our shoulder blades are now just useless bone and muscle,

Our wings and place in the angels' hierarchy has been stripped from our worth,

They clipped our wings in mid-flight and threw us out of bliss.

And now we putrefy in days of pain,

In a time of hate...

But it is in our mortal and ugly nature,

Though it is also to love,

The thing that is supposed to greatly out-do the hate...

But some haven't seen that yet,

Just sinking in days of earthly abhorrence,

Filled with a malicious passion.

And then, there are those who devour freedom,

Plucking it from others as if it were a plentiful fruit...

It's not.

It's a gift that some receive,

Unthankful,

Undeserving,

Disgusting,

A blasphemous bastard.

He should have a taste of war,

Of blood,

Of death,

If he doesn't already know it.

So children cry out in warfare,

Dying,

Every scream that pierces the battlefield is comforted by an angel,

That wasn't stripped of its wings.

Machine guns and a soldier's suicide shriek in a person's agony,

Lamenting another death that shouldn't have been,

Screaming out a country's pain,

Another child's death,

Another mother's grief.

So much fighting,

We will never learn,

Money, slaves and dictatorship...

Stolen, used shamefully and uncaring of people who suffer needlessly,

Killing off species of animals,

Ruining our world with factories and poachers,

That's the greatness of our race...

But we can change...

And it'll take an eternity,

Though we're working for it...

Smell the dust blowing up winds,

You awake,

The screams and words still reaffirm in your mind,

Wars are raging...

Will you make a difference?