The dream is dead!
The dream is gone!
Phantoms haunt every single one.
Halls filled with malice and regret.
Screams echo from shattered concrete.
Remnants of a once prospering land.
Squandered, we sullied every scrap as if planned.
Selfish, stupid, bitter, barren.
Our wake is disease and oblivion.
Practiced in our putrid fashion.
Brandishing but lacking compassion.
Thirst for more than is on offer.
So we embark on senseless slaughter.
Violence is our blood.
It scorches our world for good!
Future is on sale.
Prosperity is a fail.
Ghouls are what we have become.
Mindless in our desperate affliction.
Lost deep within this lightless cell.
Peace is not something we can compel.
Betrayal is our favoured state of living.
Pathetic, weak, needy, self serving.
Every moment is a living nightmare.
Surround by our arrogant despair.
Soon there will be nothing left here!
Thirst for more than is on offer.
So we embark on senseless slaughter.
Violence is our blood.
It scorches our world for good!
Simon A Jackson - Writer 