worthless tongue

the song from my violin,

tells the same story again,

wishing for the changing of the notes,

but still I find myself in quotes,

from ancient wisdom,

and those fighting for a new system,

but the truth can never be erased,

I am empty being chased,

by hopes of what will never be,

so take your ax, and chop down my tree,

I rather be dead then write one more letter,

I hear things get better,

but people in joy speak those words,

never once from the lips of the sad have they occurred,

we do not believe your lies,

like you do not hear our cries,

your world is worth living and fun,

ours is dark with no sun,

you smile for tomorrow,

but we burn in the hells of sorrow.