In The Name Of Who? Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

I never thought of my self as poet.
I just wrote things down till the heart was content.
I never thought of myself as a writer.
For my stories never have an ending.
They continue on and on.
An enormous decent.
In to the deep dark abyss.
An emptiness that just never can be filled.
Eating it all up only hoping all my wounds will eventually heal.
But they never do,
A million people who I can relate to.
I know exactly what your going through.
I know of all the crimes of this society.
The wrongs that can't and will never be made right.
But with a pen at least I can put them under the spotlight.
A pointless attempt to make difference.
A constant account of those things that will forever be in vain.
The crash of another plane.
It has seen better times.
It was so under maintain.
Yet the expectations were so high.
Bound for failure before it even lifted off.
A blitz upon the night sky.
Then we investigate as if we didn't have clue.
A permanent lie infused.
You can fool ones mind but never the heart.
It can look right through you as if you were made of glass.
An inner reflection.
A mental dissection.
A resurrection of those who never died.
They have only been compromised.
Bought sold and told what say to make everything so okay.
Oh how the writers of this generation have written so many death sentences.
So much power in their hands and they don't have clue.
Completely oblivious to anything that revolves around you.
Of course they do.
It doesn't pay to save the world as much to destroy it.
Mind control devices in ink and blood.
Social paths behind the helm of an entire country.
Wars for profits sake.
Prices envelope our an entire being as we take.
A man being crucified upon a simple stake.
Not because what he speaks is untrue.
But because of what the truth could really do.
He voice echo's till this day.
In his name we pray.
Not understanding why he couldn't stay.
In a worldly world their was never room for a man like him and never will their be again.
He wasn't a prophet, but an honest generous man.
Said to be a healer.
But I believe above all else was the words he spoke which scared his country leadership the most.
Enough to provoke his cruel killing.
A soul looking to be fulfilling.
In this life and the next.
A promise in deeds done we shall confess.
And then they are the rules we created to oppress.
As if being an individual was a sickness.
A man must be able to make his own decisions.
Now matter how large the societies division.