Wildlife

And the wildlife was hunted not for heart but the hide

To warm the bones of cowards that were left behind

And the lotus wilts with the guilt of the wasted time

What does it say about the ones who never even tried

Under constant pressure, diamonds in the rough

Only way to light is fighting through the dirt

Born into such a cruel, cruel world

Survival can be such a cruel, cruel curse

Best of intentions will grow horns in sleep

Without a sense of purpose outside the dream

And our wounds are so noble but still we must see

There may not be answers in the reasons that we bleed

Preciously violent, beautifully abhorrent