It’s so hard, just to peel back the truth.
Like folding back the sky.
Propping up heaven while we renovate.
Dusting under the throne, sweeping under the rug.
How much is caught in your eye?
As the verbal rocks are thrown?
Hammering now in your head.
Leaving idealism to another time, another life.
Dropped in the ocean to be covered in coral.
We slaughter the fledgling feelings, new to hope.
Eager to walk in the sunlight holding hands.
We never understand, how to break the cycle.
Going round and round. Like a falling plane.
Spiralling, tumbling, freewheeling to the ground.
You pin the medal of victory to your chest.
Pricking the skin, letting the blood flow.
Straightening your soul, patting your ego on the back.
Mumbling incoherently the art of war.
Driving your tank over the art of love.