Figuratively
I’d like to believe
But realistically speaking
Don’t wish to deceive
You with what I have been through
Confusing serenity’s faith
In repose
With the blame I assign to
My deity woes
With which all of the fallible
Gods I expose
To Elysiums painted
In war-shaded rose
For its in graceless minds,
Wicked hearts they take shape
And give form to the genocide, arson and ****
Growing fat on the spoils of fate
And the prayers
Of the hunger still searching through scraps
For fair shares