The Crowd

Though the long gone ghosts are still fighting for their kings

Going out on a limb, cutting through the smoke & finding nothing

Their belief in their false gods have not yet died

They still have hope inside

They keep the weapons high

To somehow feel that their deaths mattered

They feel alone, all the time

Even with the crowd

Their fake laughters and their clouts

Fill them with a doubt

That they have nothing more to think & their brains are dead.

With every chant in unison something dies inside

They yet flex with empty pride

Everything is bright but still no light

Feet walk together but the knees are trembling

Oh to see that sunset again where children are running free

Opinions flying , words uttered, doubts innumerable

Debate, exchange of thoughts, questions on god

It all seems so long ago, it all seems over now

We can keep our books down

Just be”lie”ve in his words, he is whom we trust

We shall die the same death as the ghosts we see

For though we breathe right now, we are all the same

Same beliefs, same parade,

No attempt to escape.

An everlasting maze.

A blur, a haze.

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