Lives Short Lived Poem by nick feiner

You and I are like half written books,
No one stopping to take a second look,
Pages ripped and torn,
Our binding beaten and worn.

Because we have hearts half filled,
Emptied so many times, far to much has spilled,
And little by little we try and refill,
But all this work is leaving us ill.

So we give up trying to mend our wounds,
To many broken promises, respect was assumed,
Words lose the validity as we walk through life,
Hallowed to the core we feel half alive.

So why keep going, living lives of mediocrity?
Acting like all things are part of a democracy,
But no cares about our little worries and problems,
No Sherlock Holmes is going to come and try and solve them,
Their too worried about their quotas and numbers,
Digits ruling all, counting off in their slumber,
Realizing the pendulum keeps swinging,
And in that time the fat lady will start singing.

Because in the time it took them to count out 3.14,
We had already walked out the door,
We knife welding angels,
Blood dripping from our wrists red marks in all angles,
And we pass to soon, this generation of neglect,
Dying for the one thing we ever wanted.....respect.