A crumpled truth lieing on the cold soul's floor Screaming to be unraveled. Pleading to be heard. The deaf ears of the music makers Listen, o so carefully, To the song of truth Of which has no tune nor words This is how lies are birthed When the truth, -The song of the rightous Is to bland to be heard To lifeless and uninteresting To be heard by those -With blind ears -Deaf eyes The honest lies, So briliantly colored With the red - Of once innocent blood With black - Of the death we have so willingly accepted And shades of grey - Of which tints our eyes and decives our minds This is all I... Never wanted To be mocked by the music makers Who sing their tunless songs And empty words of pain All I never wanted... To be sung to By this choir With blind ears This is all I'll never want
Reason for writing:
Jack raised a good point.
Birth sign: Libra
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