What poetry,
What eloquence,
What misery around,
Can we not see the chains that bind, us to this bloody ground?
Why do we cry, for wings to help us fly?
From this dark cold world,
Who am I to question reality?
Are we so blind that we can not perceive,
That the truth can set us free,
From the chains of reality,
Why must so many die, in the name of love?
How can this be? Why is it so? When will I have leave to go?
Who am I, to question eternity?
All those around me,
Give me nothing but agony,
Why must I be consumed with hate?
I have tried to douse the flames with love, but the inferno rages on,
We were created to live, but we were born to die,
Let my blood pay the debt of humanity,
I do not wish to live,
But to die,
Is this a dream or is this reality?