Famish Poem by James Darwin Smith II

Voices not heard
Screaming in a mute world
Shamed by no inquiries
And the moral compass
Well it keeps going south
To nervousness
Trying to run fast, away
Before ever being caught
*

And who is guilty?
That for which uses haste
To paste themselves
In the honorary privilege
Of being
A taint drenched in pig's blood
To infect those
Of never feeling safe again
*

And they wonder why
Silence goes every different direction

One can only screen enough
Till the pain mutes them all away
*

I believe the wounded
For they have nothing to gain
Not those too comfortable
Playing society
As if it was all just a game
*

What are morals anyway?
So many perspectives
One could very much say
*

Unheard voices
What is there to gain?
Pain, pain and more pain
When muted to silence
Carried away in disarray
*

Where is the pride in that?
And then fate looks down
With such strong disdain
*

Madness wins
Welcoming everything
Out of sanity's range

Welcome to the land
Of the mentally deranged

Trying to rush things
So there can be a clean slate

Yet, the filth it will always remain
Infamous in the history
Of an all time disgrace
*

Oh, look at the guilty
As they smile and smile away
*

When will judgement ever become coherent?
When common sense is being white washed
Gas lit into a torrid illusion
Where to only advance
Is to pay to play
*

And souls have been sold
To highest bidders
Of the lowest forms
Of depraved madness
*

Welcome to the land
Of disillusion
Mentally ill intentions
Corrupting all
That stands cowardly
In its own selfish of ways
*


Welcome to the asylum
Ran by the mentally insane
*

Voices are heard
Using hate and fear
Screaming to a ignorant world
Where most value
Goes into that
For which causes the most pain
*


And free mind's they starve alone