Tuesday, 19 August 2014

What is life?

Everyday seems to be a conflict with psychological warfare,
Rhetorics like how violin strings are constructed with horse hair.
Those mysteries unanswered like why children are born scared,
Unable to understand how it's possible that the law's fair.

Crimes suppressed and hidden by the real criminals,
And then the blame is set upon another innocent individual.
The lies that they tell; one day they shall be exposed,
For every movement they make is deviant and finagle.

What is life but a clutter of fantasies and reality,
Conjured up to be a vision of the blind.
Our hearts are now nothing more than an apathy,
And we now follow the choices made by our minds.

Life is fragile yet everyday is a conflict that we fight,
The devious are agile and they keep hidden from our sight.
Truth is now just a word that is thrown around,
Misused like an authority in power filled with clouded doubt.

I am too blinded; my vision is faded,
My pen writes what emotion remains.
The past reminded why prisons are raided,
I pray for clarity in motion; a peace to be retained.

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