Posted in Poems

Nothing But Hardware

Once upon a time
We were allowed conviction
Now all we are is living lies
And that’s what causes friction
Once we used to utilize
But now we’re indication
That the life we left behind
Is nothing but fiction
It’s time for change
Time for action
Time to see
Some lawful vindication
We used to travel the world
Me and my forty men
On average, we broke the mold
But that was way back when
Now we’re nothing but hardware
Collecting dust on Warehouse Street
In Room 109, at the top of the stairs
Playing cards and drinking rum
Was how we escaped
Feeling like bums
Waiting for a call
From men who called themselves god
Waiting for orders
To move like a true squad
Hoping for a mission
To strike our hearts with fear
Waiting for a collision
That would bring to us death near


I'm a writer, filmmaker, and Human. I think...

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