I want to know where my life line goes
Would it lead to me to darkness or somewhere I don’t know
As I follow the lines on the greenest leaf
Hidden surprises like the caterpillar crawling beneath
I imagine different circumstances
Where would I be without my scowl
Maybe I wear my pride too often
Would it be cruel to be nothing but fair?
As I sit upon a small hill shaded by a fruit tree
It’s not poetic like you think
No nightingale wants to sing to me
The smell of death is foul
Maybe a rodent has met its maker
I have a leaking pen in my hand
Yet no ink has stained the paper

I want to be a little more than what I already am
The truth of my words is not good enough
I need to reflect more deeply before I write
I want the words to take their own course
I’m plagued with anger and their misgivings
History will not open her fruits to me
I am a plague on what now seems scraps of paper
I’m afraid my words are soaked in poverty

Surrounded by life and the claws of survival
Death is just specks of dirt on the summer breeze
Reproduction feeds the circle that ties destiny
With anything unforgiving then life has no meaning
All before has changed indefinitely the landscape
A foul road scars what once was an undamaged portrait
Trees felled for what is the greed and selfishness of man
The destroyer the harvester the king of all lies

What will become of our constant search for more
Digging in the dirt trying to find the new type of gold
Constantly taking minerals and the life from the soil
With no regret for how badly the countryside is spoiled
And we sit here from afar watching the landscape change
Interlocked with these decisions constructed in our names
We may not have a choice and therefore destiny is not ours
It means very little to ask where my lifeline goes

Words are written and thoughts are too quickly poured
Bitter with the lifestyle and it’s daily overdose
Sick to the teeth as your jaw tires from being tongue tied
Angry with society for how many times it has lied
You push for answers but the questions don’t fit the debate
They have sweet talked the answers placed a cherry on the cake
Our words will fade like the leaves in the autumn shade
We are forgotten souls who the world wanted to erase.

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