Painful Question

Maybe someday we will be without war. But until then, there are no adequate answers, just excuses. And there is no glory in it, at least not for the innocents caught in the crossfire. Those are real people out there, not pawns on a chess board.

I always ask the question
Why must we be this way?
I ask and ask and ask
Though the painful truth remains

Darkened doll eyes fix on distant hells
Foul water hides mementos unclaimed
Thoughtless caress of reality unveiled
In cheerful explosions in a counterfeit crystal sky
Death is festive, decorating all we love
With more appropriate patterns.

Birds break free and stir the ashes
Beaks cracked wide with wordless promises
Stuck down below we strain to hear
The soothing voice beneath the screams

I always ask the question
Why must we be this way?
I ask as if its a secret
A secret no one dares to say

Beneath the danger a swinging schism
Meaningless calm where they all lie
After the storm tore away everything
Leaving only a shell of pride
Encasing a bitter brew of realization
Deafened and numb, scorned by fate
Those that are left endure for their saviors
And hear only bullets and the shrieks of angry birds

I ask this painful question
Beg the universe for a reason
I ask and ask and ask
But I already know the answer

Shivering in the cold wasted by the maelstrom
I see faces in unlikely places
In the paralyzed eyes of lost friends
In the gullets of hallucinatory demons

I ask as if there's a purpose
Behind this cacophony, or is it a symphony?
I ask and ask and ask
And even when I find a reason
Someone else won't find it true
We ask but there's no reason
That would ever, ever do.

The End

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