The People Here Poem by Matt Mercer

Early that Wednesday night
I went out for the thrill
my mind was opened
For the lies to spill
The mess wasn't pretty
And neither was the discontent
That spread across their faces
It remained,
Until the day they went
Their eyes;
A shadow of their empty shell
Giving a glimpse
Of the darkest hell
Ignorance played out like a trumpet
Echoing through the years
And there was more than one face
For each pretender, in this place
Standing in the doorway
They talked and they laughed
Being as selfish as they were
Letting in the draft
But the people here, know who they are
And who they'll be
As my eager eyes watch...
...we'll wait and see