Sometimes, I find
This world to be a hopeless place
Nothing is in control.

Every time I see
People are walking in the streets
Wearing thick cement walls.

Some are broken
Walking with cracks
Erupting with volcanoes of lava hot.

They are the ones
Who burn themselves to light up the homes
Of those who are broken not.

The paradox of this world is this,
People who are broken
Get broken even more.

To build up the ones
Who are breaking the ones broke
To build up cement walls even more.

Sometimes I find,
This world to be a hopeless place
Nothing is in control.