Just follow the trail of dead heroes
the path littered with suicide notes
and shotgun shells
tender hearts made of tinder
veins lined with gasoline
fingertips with matchstick nails
you see I’ve been thinking
a lot about dying lately
as the world crumbles apart
and human decency is becoming
a fable of days long past
I can’t stop myself from thinking
that maybe we would
have been better off
dying when we were younger
maybe as far back as six or seven
back when we were an age
that still believed in things
worth believing in
because god **** it hurts
to look at what we are becoming
while completely ignoring
what we could be
instead of reaching for are potential
we pull back and hide
in the grasp of fear and doubt
nothing is learned from denial
as we take pride in god and country
while ignoring the blood stained
pages of human history
and tell me what god
would allow such cruelty
such blind hate
so much anger and fury
to let bullets fly
in our school yards and streets
churches and synagogues
places of unity and love
how much longer can we march
how much longer can we fight
how much longer can we live
in this world of “us vs. them”
when we’re just like them
and they are no different than us
whose line is it drawn in the sand
whose border is it
that separates this land
from that earth
who decided that there
was a difference
between you and me
two souls lost along the path
of dead heroes
with our tender hearts made of tinder
veins lined with gasoline
fingertips with matchstick nails
trying to hold on to hope
without burning ourselves
from the inside out
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
Just follow the trail of dead heroes
the path littered with suicide notes
and shotgun shells
tender hearts made of tinder
veins lined with gasoline
fingertips with matchstick nails
you see I’ve been thinking
a lot about dying lately
as the world crumbles apart
and human decency is becoming
a fable of days long past
I can’t stop myself from thinking
that maybe we would
have been better off
dying when we were younger
maybe as far back as six or seven
back when we were an age
that still believed in things
worth believing in
because god **** it hurts
to look at what we are becoming
while completely ignoring
what we could be
instead of reaching for are potential
we pull back and hide
in the grasp of fear and doubt
nothing is learned from denial
as we take pride in god and country
while ignoring the blood stained
pages of human history
and tell me what god
would allow such cruelty
such blind hate
so much anger and fury
to let bullets fly
in our school yards and streets
churches and synagogues
places of unity and love
how much longer can we march
how much longer can we fight
how much longer can we live
in this world of “us vs. them”
when we’re just like them
and they are no different than us
whose line is it drawn in the sand
whose border is it
that separates this land
from that earth
who decided that there
was a difference
between you and me
two souls lost along the path
of dead heroes
with our tender hearts made of tinder
veins lined with gasoline
fingertips with matchstick nails
trying to hold on to hope
without burning ourselves
from the inside out
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