Contemfate Poem by Arik Fletcher

Sitting here I wonder how,
Looking over at you now,
All the goodness of our race,
Is mirrored in your lovely face.

Sitting here I wonder why,
Stretching out before my eye,
All the world is but a stage,
Of actors breathing hate and rage.

Sitting here I wonder when,
Hoping peace will come again,
All the lies that we have told,
Will save the lives that have been sold.

Sitting here I wonder what,
Thinking of all we've begot,
All our dark destructive past,
Has brought to bear on us at last.