In Memory of a Lost Generation

Look into the faces of the rulers of tomorrow
And watch as the soul is beaten out.

As the monotony of the modern day
Slowly, gently chips away
And the life fades from the faces of our youth.
No bruised and broken body
No blood of helpless lambs
Could ever compare to the vacant stare
Of those who are dead in the eyes.

Some hurt within so badly
They've got to let it bleed.

Some take measures more drastic still;
A gun and some bullets- you know the drill.

They try to hurt, harm and alarm
In hopes we will not see
Those horrible eyes
So desperate,
So lost,
So lonely.
What terrible toll was paid by the soul
That the devil must loan them his lonely eyes?
The vacant stare does often scare
The scars cannot be dismissed by lies.

Look into the faces of the rulers of tomorrow
And tell me what you see.
They are acting as our human mirrors.
They are reflecting our society.
Tell me, have we done them right?
Have we done them any good?

Look into the faces that rule tomorrow.
I ask you, is it a feigned sorrow?
Or have they gone dead in the eyes?