Contemplation – A Short Poem

I can’t digest the change,
when i see what remains
sin is the oozing toxin,
that’s got our globe rotting.

There seems to be no day,
that will see a pure ray,
Of sound made of serenity
and sprouted buds of harmony.

We’re left helplessly watching by,
As the mascara darkens our sky,
One made of the hate we create
with an iniquitous notion to dominate.

Call off the bad blood,
Call off this plague,
We need love to flood
and rise above this hate.

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