Man.

Powerless yell,
In a distinctive hell.
A godless people,
On a godly steeple.
Burned down temples.
In a forest already turned to ash;
These are the examples.
These are the truth under which man lives.
In a land where everyone takes,
While no one gives.
These morals they will sustain,
But one day,
It will rain.
Everything will turn to rust.
And man will have no one to trust.
It will disappear.
And no man will have their cheer.
What will they do then?
A world full of cowardly men.
Men too full of themselves to listen to the brave.
The brave are much too different.
This will put them to their grave.
Man's unwillingness to listen.
As if they've all been unchristened.

Sorry, Mom.

I'm sorry I can't be the person you want me to be, mom.
I'm sorry that you have such low expectations of men.
I'm sorry you would like me to hold my tongue sometimes.
You call it one thing,
I call it lying.
Whether you're hiding it, or giving it a new name,
It's a lie just the same.

I'm sorry I'm not the perfect son,
I'm sorry that you can't see me for who I am.
Instead of the monster you created.
You think it's one thing,
I think it's hurtful.
Whether you're hiding it, or calling it a metaphor
It still makes me hurt more.

I'm sorry you think you've sheltered me too much.
I'm sorry you think I can't see if someone is trying to offend me or not.
I'm sorry that I miss social cues
You call it one thing,
I disagree.
Whether you're hiding it, or making it blatantly obvious,
There's no reason to be vicious.

I'm sorry that you can't see the world as you did before.
I'm sorry that you think everyone is horrible.
I'm sorry you've lost faith in the general public.
You call it one thing,
I call it cynicism.
Whether you hide it from us, or keep it to yourself,
I won't ever put them on the same shelf.

Ambiguous Ascenders.

I'm a soldier looking down the end of a barrel.

I'm not the one holding the weapon.

But I know who they are.

Someone we were supposed to always trust.

No one ever expects to be murdered by our own fathers.

I am no exception.

Betrayed by those closest. 

I must ask why? 

They will not answer.

Do you want to hurt me, or someone else?

Still not a response.

They just continue to point the cold steel tunnel of death at me.

Never faltering in his decision.

Our fathers have been preparing for quite a while.

I look into the cold steel tunnel of death wondering if it will hurt.

I'm not the only one on the hit list.

Many more will be shot, poisoned, or starved to death. 

They don't care for your excuses.

Only those who can pay their way to the top will live.

Us who cannot, do not last long.

They tell our families a different story.

But it is always for the same selfish reasons.

Money; Power; Lust. 

There are no exceptions.

They will tell you something else. 

But you cannot believe them.

Our fathers will tell you whatever they need to justify their sins.

These fathers have lost their way much long ago.

It all started the day the separated from their parents for the same reason we are mad at them for.

Some say we become the things we despise.

I agree.

They've become askew from their just ideals.

Nothing can change this.

It will continue till they fall.

Some think they will never fall.

I disagree.

It's much closer than you would ever think.

They are slipping, succumbing to the sickness.

Madness, distress, sickening, condemnation.

They don't know this is what they've been asking for.

They are blind.

Walking forward blinded.

Painting black, thinking it is white,

Condemnation follows close.

Biding it's time with unequivocal patience 

The ambiguous actions of the "ascenders" will be our representation.