And the night whispers in peace.
Wailing sirens of fear would have you think
Dreamers nod off in hope
Of shared resistance.
But what about shared struggle?
The limits placed on acceptance are abitrary.
The dust of shoes
Take many forms.
Who feels they have the
To pick the front lines?
And who cares not? But,
Only rushes to the front.
Sword in hand.
Knowledge in mind
That only the true will rush to.
How many good souls get distracted
By the fields of green.
What a pretty sight,
The fields of green
"We fight for those without a voice?"
There is a one-way conversation going on
In these fields of green.
The "voiceless" don't talk to them.
Informants. Lies, plastic hating plastic holders.
They hate themselves. Hate only breeds
Then the fields of green begin to fade.
The flower begins to die.
About their "love."
Was never about them.
Alone, words type onto their paper cups.
"YOU! YOU! CAN DO YOUR PART!"
"BUY ME!!! BUY ME!!!!"
There's nothing there we want.
And the "voiceless can't hear
Their whispers from so far back, in their
Fields of green.