Black as night, light as day.
The world can change but the contents stay the same.
A retched world, as some say, a beautiful day.
A calligraphy, beautiful to the untrained eye.
But underneath it all there are cracks and smudges.
An angry love, spreading throughout, a peaceful killer.
Walking around this world just to see its dead life.
The contents of our lives, like zombies.
Arms out straight, our eyes wide shut.
We can’t tell ’till it’s too late, what went horribly wrong.
We walk around, with our blind vision, not knowing where to go.
The leader always straying to the worst.
But we follow, unable to see what lies ahead.
We sense it might be wrong, but with our silent screams nobody can rescue us.
We try to run, to hide, but we feel dangerously safe in the world within.
We can’t stray from this angelic devil, this lifesaving destroyer.
We are freedom’s slave and nobody can escape, from this humane killer.
Poetry
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Nice write! I guess sometimes we do tend to walk around with rose colored glasses, refusing to acknowledge the obvious. Enjoyed reading this.