Somewhere between aspiration and expectation,
The river of life got dammed.
The stale water is pungent now,
Ripe to be fished by the powerful
To fulfill their ulterior motivation.
A bud that did not flower, never came to fruition,
Lost forever to humanity, a malodorous fragrance, putrid,
Wasted blood caked dry by the blazing sun.
As the hypocrites responsible for the mayhem rejoice,
Shouting to the high heavens for the glory of the martyred,
Somewhere a lonely heart weeps for the wasted soul.