Soft December Rains (A Worlds Failure) Poem by Joseph Tindall

You sit the centuries, a failed dream;
Nor blood or death, could sew this seam.

You wait the day for the dream you mention;
You wait, you wait, but show no action;

You follow orders, for country or queen;
They are just players, self focusing, their dreams.

You see more pain, death all around;
You hear them scream out, but nobody is found.

Living in luxury, you sit in your chair;
Watching the world pass by, with your dreaming death glare.

For the dream that was fought for, a country of free;
Was given, so you gave up, on that world wide dream.

For you too became that country, that queen;
That scared, fearful nation, or perhaps too self focusing.

For the dream it was lost, but the potential still remains;
On the day that peace is found, in the soft December rains.