There is a dog called morality,
Beaten, as he is, on his path,
For his master is another thing,
A thing, that defies, all math…

Cruelest is the man who sits and says nothing
Stand alone stare with a harrowing message
Or maybe it’s the poorest, crudest of man
Who we all brand as vicious, biting off hands
But then what of the angry indignant man
The one who feels drained with no moral compass
Moans and groans develops own brands of justice
Then there’s the soldier in all different shapes
Who plunders and kills or kidnaps and rapes
No words for the actions of each head of state
No words for the actions of the man who wont stand
No words for all those who play life at high stakes

Doesn’t life burn you when spending it thinking
So here we all are; fast living and sinking

I'm sure they have reasons.
I'm sure they sound good.
And however they preach them,
They are understood.

But I see the damage,
And I feel the loss
Inflicted by faith and justice
And their noble cause.

And I stand on the rubble
Caused by their shaky ground.
All else has crumbled,
Why haven't they fallen down?

And I stand, not silenced,
But my screams are not heard.
They are drowned out amongst
The sound of their solemn word.

And their intent's not malicious,
I know they believe,
But this is the outcome
Of the the ideas they preach.

It's not enough not to mean it.
And a sorry won't do.
We're both fighting for something,
Why am I not right too?

If you are so sure that
Your cause is better than mine,
Then by all means continue,
And, to the damage, be blind.

Or claim the loss is worth
The future you're fighting for.
And that the ends will justify
All casualties of war.

But as you rally your soldiers
By any means,
Give a big speech,
Pull on their heart strings,

Remember that it's only one story;
It's only one side.
And if you silence me now
You'll never hear mine.

He exists, showing
moral uprightness in the
past, present, future.

A war wages between your head and your body.
You wake up next to your anxiety,
Coating you in a bubble between rationality and fear.
Evil holds your hand every day,
You never noticed him until you were ten years old and they told you about war.
He was the lieutenant.
You never wanted to know him but you found yourself at thirteen,
Looking him in the eye when the kids at school called you names.
Now he walks with you everyday and waves to all the kids he knows.
Evil is the pressure of depression,
The mania of schizophrenia,
The animal that is anorexia.
You hold all of the goodness inside of you.
And all of the evils too.

I'm the one who must stare
At the image in the mirror--
See the stranger standing there.
I'm the one who must stick
Through the thick and thin of it--
Can't leap overboard when you're the ship.
Somehow I must get along;
I may be mad. I may be wrong.
Regardless, I must soldier on.

And you have choices. As do I.
We can judge the way I try,
Manipulate and justify.
Over there you can stand,
Chastise and reprimand.
On a high horse, wield command.
But when you trot away from this,
I'll still have to live with it.
No space in this relationship.

So I will twist and bend your facts.
Moral high ground: counteract.
Reshuffle so no longer stacked.
It's not from malice or a grudge
That I change the story for the judge--
You must believe: it is out of love.
A love for myself that I must maintain--
For you can always walk away,
But, good or bad, I must remain.

Soft strung on mourning dew
Moon-lit nights stung, chasing you.
Evanescent upon thin waking lids
The pages burnt with nitrogen.

The aching echo, overbearing hollow
Dusty ash. An after taste.
Not tear enough to hardly swallow-
Or stomach left to try to sate.

The pillars-statues-all in our name
Bleached out hero's in history's game.
Naught plight enough to recall how human
Our blood-our tears-stained our face.

We legends born from pleading minds-
Broken spirits and battered limbs.
Who seek to finally cease the crime-
To bring back the light-wash out the dim.

Give our strength-are cast in shadow
To drive the ghost that haunt the land
Back to their own, bleak bloodied meadow
With our hearts-grasped tightly-in their hands.

The rest is but a washed out vision.
The lull of peace saturates the land.
But you and I have been ripped open and swallowed
As the lion now scarified to the lamb.