The trees, so hidden well by thickened wood,
While senses hide behind the deep despair,
He, ridiculed by those that can’t but should
And persecuted by those that once did care.

As fingers point and clone the loaded gun;
They choose a victim crying on his knees,
To watch him beg for solitude, in one
And disregard his perennial pleas.

The rights and wrongs of progress blister quick
And fall apart to rapturous applause.
For paths of devils spawn are lit at wick
And decompose before his sharpened claws.

For as the darkness shrouds with efforts lost,
The poisons of the earth are thus entwined.
His tears fall hard and to his conscious’ cost,
His evolution ceases from behind.

And all the while the hands of time do turn,
He passes those that choose to stay their feet.
For oil on oceans life will always burn;
He swims and does not drown in his defeat.

But do not punish him, he knows no more,
His misery is real and chokes his breath,
For it is all he knows to thus endure
And now must live a love beyond its death.

For sadness herein sits effortlessly,
Where ignorance is thickly overgrown,
But when the clouds do lift, that’s when they'll see,
That never is a heart broken alone.