The suffering of the father
Is passed on to the son
It's the work of generations
That is, sadly, never done

May we find the separation
between
our heart's heaven
and our mind's hell
and see it as
the light of things

How can people see insanity
In those who are trained to act?
And they themselves can’t distinguish
Between boldfaced lies and fact?

Warm your hands
Next to it’s fire
Bow to it
And call it sire
No one may ever know
Where you have been

But if you do
Know full well
Your soul’s no longer
Yours to sell
And you may never
Be the same again

I think
therefore I question
I question
therefore I anguish
I anguish
therefore I tremble
I tremble
At the the thought
of the answer

Some decisions are easy
But some we are left to wrestle
With bad and the good
The what-ifs and the shoulds
Eventually ground up in a pestle

Why can’t the hardest of hearts
Look into the eyes of a smiling child
And be rid of what keeps them
From being human again?