Make it Matter
Spitting venomous barbs
Singing harmonic sonnets
Chanting war and peace
Hollow words collected
In a hollow hall
Full of hollow minds
That echo repeated phrases
Spoken before
But we bleed over these lines
Like giving birth to a child
When we are really
Giving CPR to the lifeless
Trying to breath a beat
Into the heart left behind
And it is a generational cycle
That waxes and wanes
Within a fickle audience
Where success can come
At any moment
And time doesn’t care
If you are
Dead or alive
