The Hypocrite

The throat is sore
The heart bruised
The dreams shattered
And progress still

Cocooned inside
This stagnant rife
They lead us all
Blind, deaf and mute

The earth it burns
They drill inside
They drink her blood
Her black vein flow

They cut her mane
Was green now black
Destroy her skin
Eyesore to all

The mirror screams
You hypocrite
My tainted heart
It spews it stinks

Published: Sunday, November 22nd, 2009
Filed under: Musings in Verse
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