Shrouds of truth fall over the stage of life.
The time comes when the actors must take place.
The curtain is drawn and we see what really exists.
We are no longer blanketed away from the lies.

The scene is a kitchen of complacency.
Full of appliances that are sure of their use.
As the surgical knife dives deeper into the folds,
We soon find the kettle has no room to talk.

All along the while, the accusations shared
Turned out to be echoes of insecurity and hatred.
All along the while, the gossip spared and spent
Turned back invalid and left the soul used and poor.

Some take upon a pleasure from betrayal.
Morphing into a mythical monstrosity.
Soon they develop a split personality.
They turn ice cold as their blood freezes.

They possess a double bladed knife,
Bought from the blood of their victims.
They sneak behind others, and await trust.
They stab without guilt, and relinquish their humanity.

Fallen soldiers in the war against a normal life,
Struggle to grasp on the cause of their downfall.
Fallen soldiers in the war against a pursuit of happiness,
Struggle to grasp the lack of soul from their enemy.

Countless victims lie without hopes of sleep.
They stare numbly at the ceilings, lost in a void.
They have become comatose from the abuse of society.
All wires cut from their body, dangling loosely down.

Their enemy was once like them, yet something happened.
Something came upon them that molded them into a deformity.
The potential still exists, lost deep within then bowels of hatred.
Yet, it is a shiny star that will burn in them forever regardless.

Everyone born had a choice to become the tree of his or her choice.
They had the option to grow and produce whatever seed they wished.
They spread their limbs high into the sky influencing all around them.
Everyone born had a choice to become the person of his or her choice.

What mistakes could have been done to cause such a failure?
What kinks in a machine could result in a total meltdown?
Have the workers fallen asleep at the wheel?
Have we slacked off in our job to keep the line going?

These questions float down from the crimson sky.
Looping in the air they make a journey of no return.
They slide through the grasps of eager prophets,
And plummet into a gushing river of confusion.

The impossible becomes the probable.
The solution to the formula is anticipated.
Heavy debates rain over a clouded classroom.
A verdict is returned: society guilty.

The answer has arrived, yet no one is satisfied.
Just as those questions slipped away from prophets,
Those in charge choose to ignore the losing battle.
They, instead, choose to continue a march into oblivion.

Everyone is a hypocrite of his or her own making.
Everyone is a victim of the world they live in.
Everyone is a worthy shed of a million tears.
Everyone is in need of a free hand and shoulder.

Time to stop, and evaluate the current situation.
It is time to repair what is been broken and destroyed.
Fix the machines that have stopped working,
And begin teaching a new creed to the pupils.

An awaking of sorts is being shouted for.
Infinite amount of mute cries cover the world.

Break out of that cocoon, and listen up.
See what is around you and make for the best.
Influence all you see to make it better.
Become the Midas of your generation.

Generations will fade like a relic picture.
Yet the positive influence will take place.
After time, all the chaos and corruption will dissipate.
And distraught will just be another word in the dictionary