In My Time By Ian Council What misery poured across the land? With all of value turned to sand. When the façade in which we build falls frail. We define these moments in little detail. Conscious and knowing we fallow this path. Continuous our history repeats a sorrowful past. Collectively, we are good, but are growing sour. Calling on our God, we pray in this dreadful hour. Secretively we spent, only adding to our contempt. Severely we tarnish our honorable concept. Sheltered from the horror in which most of the world is attuned. Stationed high, we believe we are immune.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Jul 2013 08:17:24 +0000
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