We, of History

 

Ink has been spilt,

Blood has been shed,

Memories made,

And houses fled.

The world has turned

And life goes on.

The gifts are plentiful

But sins are still made,

The cracks of the surface are not all that are laid.

Points of view are often played.

The lies have been saved.

Yet still we march brave.

Our feet meet the same stone

And our hearts race in sync.

We are of the equal kin, denying each other still

But putting effort in change.

Our flaws are that of the past,

But our perfection is in that of our act.

The angles have not fled.

And our race is still in the making.

Our virtues unshaking,

Yet always new and in the making.

We are not the same, we were never meant to be.

Yet still we try.

And still we lie.

Ink has been spilt,

Blood has been shed,

Memories made,

And houses fled.

The world has turned

And life goes on.

The gifts are plentiful

But sins are still made,

The cracks of the surface are not all that are laid.

We learn from the past,

Act for the future.

We are made from another’s reflection,

Always in pursuit of perfection.

When in denial we have already achieved

That of which we try so hard to flee.