Poetry: Cowards

Cowards

Nothing is ever going to promise tomorrow, today
Damn, our presuppositions are limited to now
Oh dear. Oh dear
How did we all become so timeless and spineless
The lake is drying, and we are dying with it

It gets dark and dark again
Such is the search for a meal on the dunghill
And we believe vengeance is of the Lord
Especially when she goes to war
She faces not just the guns but also the rot of injustice

Laid back to the truth and never the lies
He enjoys ripping out the souls of his brothers
While cooking for the cabal, he will never dine with
Taking flights of shameful greetings
Oh, my dearest people, hoodlum attacked the palliative

Our strife for enjoyment continues
With the currencies and the mine stones
and our lips soaked with sore wine
as we merry in luxurious poverty
queuing and waiting for death
as our wishful white souls depart into beautiful dark hell

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