Compassion, A Victim to an Unseen War

Where is

the helping hand

that is lent

to lift the lowly

I up? I look to the

sky, darkness 

descends to block

it out.  Beauty is 

rearranged into

plastic cards, 

paper statements,

and exchanges..

Hearts evolve

into cold machines

devising ways

for self-preservation.

Society stands united

for disunity, we

segregate ourselves

into categories...

Labels are lies,

created to keep

each other

into boxes...

Too many boxes

are thrown out

with the trash,

though there are 

value, and precious

meaning found

within in them.

If we only had 

the courage to

open them up.

The people turn 

their backs to struggle,

and wonder why

there is no one to 

serve their food.

A society of wealth,

bussing in their 

slaves, keeping them

on the outskirts...

The slaves, once

were the people.

They turned their backs

to the struggle,

and hid their heads

in the sand... watching

their land taken 

from their hands.

They didn't even

put up a fight.