OUR GENERATION

   As i look around, I see dead people

I dream of murder

Slow, painful murder

A borderless slaughter house

Painted in red young blood of a clueless generation

Who would have ever known?

Death can be so sweet

I dream of silent murders where no guns or bombs are used

Victims crave to be murdered

They dig their own graves

And decorate their own tombs

Curse their own bodies

Burn their own tender souls

I dream of merciless murders

And bittersweet suicides

The smell of death lingers in lifeless air

Rest in peace to the pieces of this clueless generation

I see dead people

I dream of a ghost world and dark spirits

Things that were once so sacred

Surrendered to the devils yard

An earth that once danced in green clothing

Stripped of its natural attire

Stupidity is awarded with fame

Wisdom is trashed and denied

Beauty is defined by mere appearance

Love comes with a price tag

Kinship is built with bank notes

An oblivious generation

Needing repatriation

Filthy lifestyles, we’ll die a sick nation.