Mysteries behold,
As the small boy runs,
The little girl may laugh,
With hatred looking upon them,
Though innocent now,
Soon the innocence will be lost,
Taken in the blink of an eye,
Wondrous things,
In a century of hate,
Greed growing stronger,
As the small boy grows older,
The little girl loses faith,
The small boy is no longer small,
The little girl no longer little,
The boys wearing torn cloths,
The girl wears very little,
The boy can’t keep away from a blade,
Neither can the girl,
The boy can’t walk down the street,
Without someone yelling 'freak'
The girl is raped by those she trusted,
In a world of hate and greed,
The small boy and the little girl,
They never had a chance,
Every time they cut deeper,
When will it be too much?
When will the blade go too deep?
When will the pain claim another life?
The youth of today don’t get the chance,
They don’t shine on through,
Depression and hate rule,
As each has his or her daemons,
Wonders behold,
In a century where they cant stand,
Where being different,
Makes you the outcast,
Outcast, outcast, outcast,
All that is heard in the ears of some,
As they blades take a walk,
Running right down a wrist,
Cant this stop?
Why in a century where life is ease,
Is it so easy to kill?
Death scattered across the globe,
Hate never far behind,
Gangs of youth wondering the streets,
Trying to find a place to fit in,
Among the many morons of society,
Tell me how this century is so wonderful?
Tell me how it is better than any other is,
I don’t see it; maybe I'm just blind,
But I doubt that’s the case.
