Is it true to say,

Is it true to say,

Is anything?

Is it too exposing

Is there anything left to hide

What do they mean by it anyway?

The people who pretend

They bleed out

Pouring their guts onto the page,

Is there any truth to it

When the words lie

Half the time,

The other half

Might as well be dead

Left unsaid.

There is no romance in alcohol

No poetry in pain

The suffering is unnecessary

When so much is made

Of so little

And in the real world

Heroes go unsung

Children die in shadow

Violence is a curse

Poverty is a trap so many never leave

“All ye who enter here”

Is not a welcome mat

For the romantic

With a classical education

Jousting with each other

Over a punch-drunk keyboard

In the rain

As the smug metropolitans

Promote themselves

To be judge, jury and executioner

Whilst denying their belief

In hierarchy

They are just naturally

Better than the rest.

It is the way of things.

If Zeitgeist is a movement

Toward change

Don’t fight it

Or get onboard

It’s not a peace train

Just another carriage full

Of poor souls

Looking for existence

In the narrow margins

Outside the confine

Beyond the fool's cap and paper walls.