SUCH RAGE

the rage of seeing empty faces
is to hard to bare
a world of walking dead, in a constant midnight air

people of the cloth, hide their dirty minds
behind the pulpit

little boys, grow up to be, like their
runaway fathers

pointing fingers, stab the eyes of the youth
judging, who they are now, not who they will be

a planet so over weight, yet
so many die starving

so many backs are turned
on ones ideas

the money is made
but you never can touch it, to spend it

the truth is out there
but so many fear to reach it

i have such a rage
for the words i just said
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