Mortality
Monstrous is mortality
which stalks the soul until it dies
then free it is of stubborn pride,
brutality, carnality.
We mustn't cry.
If we had known the hardships then
would we have volunteered to come
and march like soldiers to the drum
and seen it to the bitter end?
A lion's den.
Bruised upon the wheel of fate
crushed is every tender heart
like puppets we are torn apart.
Fools we were to take the bait.
A sinless braveheart.
Better is the next bright star
than deception we are drowning in.
Where beauty dwells, and our own kin.
No battle scars or ruthless Czars.
We, sovereign.
Were we a cloud, pond, or tree
wouldn't we be much improved?
Even if we hardly moved
or were the tumultuous, romantic sea,
mortality removed.
Worlds beyond, now out of reach
we will cradle in glorious hands,
rule with care and give commands.
And simple species we will teach.
As was planned.
But today we are like childish fools
who dream of Heaven, and a God sublime.
Praying away our heinous crimes,
stuck here in this hellish school
we bide our time.
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