Elegy to Society

Into the bleeding Western sky,
There echos the firesome battle cry,
of those who lived and those who've died,
And those in between who scream and writhe,
Into the bleeding Western sky,
The man is slowly consumed by the pride,
Happiness, dead, with less than a sigh,
And righteousness gone without such a fight,
Look into the eyes of a martyr long dead,
Goodness and love are not rightly said,
To be on the side of the joy, being bled,
Is to write out a requiem for the righteous of tread,
Step in the place of the lies that you bred,
And look back on the frailty of words they're once said,
So look into the eyes of a martyr long dead,
To be on the side of the joy, being bled.