Gold, as a fickle branch we hit our heads on,
And the subtle destruction of our very beings.

What are we, but each other?

What are we, but puzzle pieces to a picture?

Where do we all fit in, and where do our hearts truly lie in the smog-filled cities we roam?

We warn the future of our mistakes and turn a blind eye to what they have to
clean up.

We are an unforgivable cycle of liers and politicians, where tyranny is our only salvation.

We cannot change the past, but we can shape the future.

We cannot go back, but we can stitch the sutures.

© Salem Ferrel, All Rights Reserved #LifeChangingContest