It’s about time you left the pod
You spent so much time preaching about the good old days that you forgot the new ponderings.
You forget about movements and monuments
You left a hole in a heart where a home was built
You sent a plea for change and gave us the bolts of a tank
It bothers me deeply to see how bleekly we see weekly updates on a far away mess we made where blood will hit land but never sink in. Insted it’s swept up in comotion and is drained in a sink.
You drove me to the notion of the motion is impossible, but I’ll keep going and make sure I won’t see it die. Because my life won’t die, it won’t die. I will seek my home alone, or I’ll have this army at my back to fight for the end that will be MY beginings.
My gun will be my head with my thoughts being the bullets in the back of every congressmen who lied and who let me witness pain. The one’s who speak the good game, for a good time, in a bad war. They won’t know the half of it.