Our spirits eaten by us as we become dictators,
Feigning uneven balance held by forceful will.
Our hearts lurks behind us, its darkness shrouded by light's absence,
as angels seeks refuge in hopeless desires - the ones procreated.
Nature learns to scourge us,
its light filling our emptiness,
only to teach nature our false ways which we claim,
its grace turning us dust,
and unto dust we still proclaim.
we are bows held by princes,
we are sharpened and trained into arrows,
to help win battles not for ourselves,
even though we forge paths on plains unrivaled by the worst end,
twisted into known states, and wastefully laid out by our dear princes..
our body mimicks our souls' weaknesses,
extending it into its own ways.
our souls' wishes fails, undulating its help,
signaling,
but we brutally cut it off,
never to be mended again....
