I was writing a novel on the paranormal when I wrote this. Just the main character’s views on humanity. Sadly my computer crashed before I was able to back it up and I lost all the work I had on this, so it’s likely I won’t continue with the story. BUT a good poem came out of it.
Let all the deceivers die,
with all the words that we don’t buy,
their every promise a lie.
They don’t care about what they cause,
their fatal flaws,
or the hearts they claw.
Their desires are high,
not giving a care about you and I,
yet they can’t stand to hear us cry.
They made their call,
and let as fall,
do we mean anything at all?
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