A land of harvest pride bruised with the weight of the guilty and the wretches.
Faith, it digested the strains on the flesh of a soulless body, eyes swollen like a distant northern star.
There were prayers of hope in the forth calling of their last breath.
It was easy to lose your mind when humanity sorted to seek freedom by betting their life with courage.
Yet intoxicated thought spawned from a nurtured ignorance, descending in your mind repent nothing.
There were blood on the floor, leaking from the cracks of the dinner plate served to a murdered sanity.
The fear you held, loading bullets in your lies packed beautifully like collectors of souvenir.
Better kept that little pride safe, because your deeds were dark.
Every other second tightened the strings of the suffocating hearts, still you pressed on.
But wait, guess you wanted to resolve victory by selfish means.
Cause I seemed to recognize, your patterns were falling off.
What did our resistance mean to you when your lust for power ripped off the frail promises in manmade moral codes?
Was that what you called a fair life?
Or just a tragedy predetermined by a failed script?
Your dishonesty bare vulnerability within lines of self-rationalized thoughts.
One day the sentence would come
And, maybe by that time you would only have your soul to offer,
As a payment to everyone and this nation you betrayed.