Children

Children's hands play with the muted wings of lost dreams
and tear them apart in fury as they try to escape.
No one will ever fly,
no one will ever escape.
Innocent eyes with depths of moonlight's reflection
glare up at you and your promises.
They know well what you preach.
They know well the lies you speak.
They cannot be anything,
but feeble wretches that crawl across the barren lands of yesterday
Being taught that our forefathers are the only capable beings
that can change the face of everything.
You lie to the children, and hold out your arms
like wings spread out from your sides,
displaying the vast landscape of opportunity.
In all reality,
this gesture leaves the children's eyes gleaming,
because they imagine tearing those wings from their sockets and telling you true.
They cannot be anything, there is no change
and you sir,
are as insignificant as the dirt on my shoes.
They are innocent,
this children
It is true.
But they are tired of your lying, only later to decline
what simple dreams they had with wide open eyes.
They are sick of all the glorification of something never born
They hate this world that you have created
where their attempts to be...
Are nothing more
than a fleck of dust on an earth that has ceased to spin.