AuburnScribbler

Who Can We Trust?

We’re told to respect,

but it’s not a toy,

this thing, we reflect,

we destroy,

 

as there’s clear destruction,

in what they tell,

crude revelation,

makes our hell,

 

who we loved,

makes us question,

angels, above,

create a tension?

 

They touched and felt,

those kids who smiled,

admiration melts,

we run a mile,

 

gracious hosts die,

when a mirror’s shown,

we believed in their lie,

that they had sewn

 

popularism is poison,

that we’ve drank down,

the land does moisten,

all around,

 

the votes we cast,

have led to war,

see a broken mask,

upon the floor,

 

those with badges,

do not protect,

such flippant flashes,

that do neglect,

 

those revered few,

are fading away,

nothing’s new,

in the everyday,

 

if life’s a card game,

we’re all bust,

to which, we exclaim,

who can we trust?