With the sunrise: emerges a world of cruelty,
Though natural like a running stream, and a flower’s beauty,
We see it when fires rage on and volcanoes erupt;
Even more when animals are maimed and poisons corrupt.
Yet none I would venture,
Can compare with human horror,
Who spilt rouge over lust, greed, prose and power,
They would gladly raze cities, massacre families and abhor,
In cold blood or warm, killing more makes man dour,
And Whether to catalyze or antagonize we’ve made time; seconds and hours,
But are we a product of the world’s cruelty or is the world a product of ours?
Perhaps it is our own; after all it is our curse,
To evolve is to make great, even evil,
So making greater our hearse.