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An Old Place of Work
My habit of poetry is like an escape,
An endless rant I pour my heart into.
Inspired by many, made a few acquaintances,
I was proud of what was there.
But with the befallen and upsetting news,
I asked myself, "Is it all that worth it?"
The people that worked for their piece,
Locked away by greed's need for satiation,
We are angered in synchronization.
We're supposed to be free, and loved,
But here we are, moving forward
Pretending they did not exist at all.
The least we can do is enjoy what's there
And move on to the next with more hope.
© Vyrene
(Forgive me for the rusty wording, I express what I wanted to express about Poetizer when I was gone on a hiatus.)
#Poetizer
An endless rant I pour my heart into.
Inspired by many, made a few acquaintances,
I was proud of what was there.
But with the befallen and upsetting news,
I asked myself, "Is it all that worth it?"
The people that worked for their piece,
Locked away by greed's need for satiation,
We are angered in synchronization.
We're supposed to be free, and loved,
But here we are, moving forward
Pretending they did not exist at all.
The least we can do is enjoy what's there
And move on to the next with more hope.
© Vyrene
(Forgive me for the rusty wording, I express what I wanted to express about Poetizer when I was gone on a hiatus.)
#Poetizer
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