Shoe

A political poem I just unearthed from my immense pile. I don't know what to think of it. What does the peanut gallery have to say?

These Beasts of Prosperity,
They pull the trigger on our union,
Their nation, Their Anarchy.
A mission lost in the Profit.
Could this Vanity progress?

When our eyes are shut,
We still gaze at the same Darkness.
And when our hearts begin to speak,
Our words are never heard.

Hands shaking,
Tears tearing,
Fear rising,
Our memories,
of what was,
what should be,
what will never be...
suppress the pain,
And yet...