No one hears, no one complains
No one tears, no one strains
Rotting moans of complacency
The new world amenity
Too soft to contend
Too brittle to bend
A quickening that aches
Too fragile to break
Chasms of mistakes
Floods in the wake
In every passing micro moment, decisions
And every misstep, overcrowded prisons
Proven in time
Your wounds are mine
Self perpetuate
Another wound to make
Paths of life
Trampled in scars
Proven in timе
Your wounds are mine
Proven in timе
Your wounds are mine
Too soft to contend
Too brittle to bend
Too fragile to break