Mortal people. Secrets. Lies.
Broken souls and silent cries.
Weaving webs and crossing lines,
Loosing site of what defines.
So far lost from what is pure,
They think it only myth for sure.
So far gone from love and trust,
Thinking they must be memories, just.
Mortal people. Bitter. Broken.
Given these, a worthless token,
By a world, desperate for peace,
But loves to war and will not cease.
So far lost from clarity.
So blind from pain they cannot see.
For love and peace, forgiveness, truth,
Are not just things coupled with youth.
They stay with those who fight and war,
Not against others. They’re fighting for,
And against themselves, they will win,
Keeping values locked within.
Youth is more than length of days,
A moments glory. A second’s praise.
It can be kept. It keeps on giving.
It is a light of truth and living.
Other people. Bitter. Cold.
Choosing to be blind and old,
Rather than to fight for truth,
And life and love…eternal youth.