Thinking At Night Poem by E.G. Desabelle

Have they seen what we've become?
The sum of parts torn apart by seemingly irreconcilable differences,
dividing us multiplying masses to know less of connecting the imaginary east and west.
A united iron ego that can't let go of riches, and dreams,
that line up the seams of our cropped city of aged skies and streets.
Wail for us lost ones, those who suppose to believe to have won none most.
Hark for the misguided angels that angle for good but know not how, where, and could.
Howl, from the bowels of the primal animal spirit that twists along with the soul, for us who can't seem to know how to know.
But have you seen what we've become?
Lost souls that only wait for the bells to toll,
For God to decide to tell us if heaven or hell awaits us,
Thieves that deceive with grinning lies that hides behind plastered on smiles, and while lusted lovers hover over their wilted hearts,
I cry, I wail, I sigh a breath that whispers the beat of my heart, a rhythm that drives and desires to sail us away from the fire of all of this.