It’s deadly — a superficial medley
of the artificial integrity that’s blinding your reality.
You’re taking steps in the right direction,
prepping yourself for the insurrection.
Unfortunately, you are wrong:
taking two paths takes too long,
and the way that you are headed
only leads to places dreaded.
Yes, you — even you — can only go so far
as the cause lives up to par.
But power’s gained and lost,
and you’re on a losing streak,
fighting battles from the sides;
you’re slowly falling from your peak.
Death would seem inevitable —
incredible, to you, that death would bring
your message through. Now, as you died,
the message grew, and warped the minds of all anew,
having hijacked on the purpose that was
originally sanctioned; darker purposes contrast
almost all the darkened nations.
Ideally, ideals naturally come to order,
but when influenced by darkened deals,
nature hovers on greyish borders.
The rules are then rewritten,
casting old ones in the fires,
slowly murdering the past
and calling old rulers the liars.
This cycle seems so endless and defenseless;
fighting ghosts of reason seems so senseless.
Without a reference for a movement,
there is never an acknowledgment
from a populace of puppets pulled
on sentimental strings — such simple-minded things.
The voice is all that’s left,
and thoughts too guarded from their theft.
Without a prepositioned set of lines,
their fate is set — and so is mine.