Pointer Fingers

Endings are fascinating
My mind is always creating
Let the wind carry me across new visions
The end of all that may glisten
These are thoughts unspoken yet I listen

Crawl from the trenches within
and see what cannot be seen
The clocks spun out
There’s much to doubt
Silently the air shouts
Tales of the discarded and demolished
Life ended and the witnesses are hidden

No not by natures clenched fist
Slowly we did it to ourselves
Money faded, blood is currency
Anything and everything is bought with blood
It keeps us warm and heavy footed
We slowly forgot that red demands a stop
or at least a quick pause

The proof of our crimes lingers upon our finger tips
We fought for a level playing field
and they gave us manufactured unity
The bloodshot eyes of the sky peer down in shame
Nature is our victim and our unmarked grave


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