Poetry: The Silence of Decay

There is a vast place, unknown to the norm

It exists in all colors, all shapes, and all forms

It exists in all countries and all walks of life

It's name may be Pain, or Suffering, or Strife

This vast place is growing, and yet we are blind

We see trivialities, yet we are biding our time

We are only delaying that which must come to pass:

The point when we ourselves join this place at last

This vast place is seething with fire and rage

Yet we see only blackness or grayness or haze

We've turned a blind eye to the obvious truth

And it's left us susceptible, like corruptible youth

And really, in the end, when this place lights ablaze

When it burns all the blackness and grayness and haze

We will still try to run, try to turn away cold

But that vast, hot inferno will burn through our souls

It will devour in hatred all of our ideals

It will seek for its anger endless half-filling meals

And it will never be full, not until the end

When all that turned away from it is burned and blackened

Because that vast place that becomes a harsh fire

Is our country's foundation, it's situation is dire

Yet we'll turn a blind eye, and we'll let it fall down

And it will crumble beneath us, yet we'll make not a sound

It will shatter to ashes, it will burn straight to sand

And yet we, the people, will still in ignorance stand

Until in the end, when the foundation falls through

And the silent decay becomes audible to you

Posted to dVerse