Bushido

Practice makes perfect
And perfect makes dumb.
My twisted kind of stupid.
I have a new hole
In my paper windbreaker.
It lets the cold in.
Can't feel the same,
Cruel jitters and wracking jolts.

No one listens anymore.
A phase we grew out of.
Glazed over eyes,
Stars that don't twinkle,
Just glare.

I stare at that old face,
The warm face I knew.
Now it's cold and metallic
Because of what the world
Has been through.

I wish I could go back
To before chivalry died.
Back to the final knight,
To the last samurai.
To see them would
Be so very bittersweet,
A lost cause.

They died for a lost cause.
What justice survived,
That which they tried to protect.
Without them it died from neglect.
Their's was an enlightened age,
And ours an age of the enlightened.
What are we going to do?
Killers without a cause,
No hearts left to protect.
I despise those people from
So long ago, who
Used their love so lightly,
So lavishly, that now there
Is no one left.
It stopped raining,
The lake has dried up.