A Poem - My Queen

Tell me, my Queen
How do we get out of here?
We’re playing these fake games
Made up by the powerless of the lost age
Turn into a machine just to fit the scene
Look at all the shiny things we made
Advertised and consumerised
Mass psychosis
Demolition of the world
When nothing is out of place
There is nothing left to improve

So tell me, my Queen
Is it enough for us to not bleed?
Or are we betraying tomorrow
If we can’t understand shared pain
How can we know what we want
When we’ve never asked ourselves
What side we’re on
Who else have we betrayed
To build you your pearly gates?
Do you even know what you’re fighting for?
How many lives will it cost to end your war?

So tell me, my Queen
When we count the numbers
When we count the hours
Do we ever stop to count the flowers?
Creation of a new world
We see tomorrow
The future is the present
But would you die to end your war?
Or can you walk away from the fake game?
Or are you part of the powerless of the lost age?
Do you give it away for just another day?

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Dreamer