Crimes run ramped, life under lease.
How long do I have to live in between,
A life of war and the hope of peace.
No longer hearing the sound of death's scream.
A generation brought up in contempt,
Left alone to survive in the dark.
Not knowing which way is up or what to attempt,
They strive to find themselves and make a mark.
Why did we fail to pass the torch along?
Why did we let it die with our disposition?
Didn't we understand that the damage would prolong?
Now this dark mass is only lit by explosion.
By Aimee R.M. Condon
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