the mind easily convinced makes no decision

and a puppet master grins

when the movement goes accordingly

to his every whim.

the heart of a child has not seen the brutality

of war, aches with idealism of what could be

it becomes a trade skewed to one of experience

then the roar of a lion

startles the lamb already skittish

for the shadows loom large, hands of fog

turn out to be something real

not a figment, pierces skin.

yes, yes, the yes man nods to the boss

who sees a trapped man earning wage

that barely sustains, yes, yes the boss man

feels confident on what right is

for are not results everything?

no, no says the child whose heart

has now gone black, black with rage

when it has become a world tossed to the flames

of a nightmare real, pierces heart

no longer willing to believe.