The Guilty

Allotted time the spider has drawn her web
Into it all the worlds evil is fed
It is a web of black a web of sins
Where the filth and hate of man begins
The sea of darkness seems to swim
Below to catch the corpses of those now grim


The gunpowder air now breathable
As the dream world around her tangible
The soil sinks beneath her as she falls in the grave
Alone he stands a hurt, sad mourner, a victim, a slave
The birth untold the happiness they could have had
Brought to light and became what WOULD have

A boy alone walks with arms closed tight
Holding himself to shield from the cold night
A beating waits for him he knows so well
He does not walk home but into hell
Instead of arms to hold him close in loves embrace
Instead, a cold hard fist that bruises his body and face

Away he walked in agony the poor old man stumbles down the walk
He could not help but remember screaming, blood and the lines of chalk
Outlined in his mind around his childhood dreams
The center of his being breaking at the seems
His mind quite gone as so many before him fell
This night will take him for he has no one to bid him farewell

The boss cut pay again today
Twice now the employees say
As they plan to survive on what they receive from one man
Who holds their well being, their lives in his hands
No one knew the twisted corporate ways
His mind had shapened over the years, months and days

We live in a broken world where everything is an escape
Nothing is said about trial, murder, or rape
The world we envision is all built on a lie
because all of its inhabitance have all but died
We are lost to ourselves things we cannot overcome
For once in a while, forever becomes numb
When our world collapses and our arms struggle to keep us from being crushed
No one is helping, because they are in their escapes, their ruts
When someone calls out for help do not hesitate to oblige
Do not use them and dump them and thank them for the ride
Life is more than just what we want here and now
People could stop hurting if we just showed them how
Teachings of love and joy, laughter and praise
Proof our perfect world might just one day raise.