I was raised
Cursed is growth
Will the younger generation break this oath?
That was taken on the altars of sacred weaved deceit
Hear our fairytales
Not of fairies with tails
But of lions who eat cubs
Puppies being mauled by giant dogs
Question it not. Its a norm
Else you 'd be a lifeless form
Of how the rain suppresses the beach
That its spine is glued and does not toss
How feet cause seed to be eternally burrowed into the ground
Saving grace has refused to be found
Stale is the smell of our air
Water no longer quenches thirst
Stunted we are
Sunlight burns our sight
Will this seed ever sprout?
Loud silence would not have us discern vision or sound.