Aren't we supposed to cry
To hate and rage and tear the sky
To kill and burn and drown and lie
In this disastrous moment in time
In this terrible century of war
There is no help if you're the poor
There is a sort of madness
To the ever-dawning sky
In this chaotic timeframe
Of dust and hunger and hate
The cure is not food
Or laughing as they say
The cure is something harder to reciprocate
Something far easier to take away
The cure is not to hate
To love in fact instead
For if we do not find our hearts
We'll all end up surely dead
But on this crumbling stage
As angry worlds collide
We find that there is no more love
And not a place to hide
There is more hate than ever
Less love to be found
If we cannot fix it quickly
We will all be drowned
To repair a broken world
Would never be an error
We have all run out of love
In this Heartbreaker Era
YOU ARE READING
Gentle Reminders of You
Poetryoh, reader, my reader, please don't hate what you are about to read they come from a part of me deep inside buried beneath blood and flesh warped in anger and weeping challenged in love changed in trust bound by hope and they are yours
