Authored: November 4, 2017

The sickness is within, a wound so deep as if a void
We have seen the countless wars that bled blood into the ground
We consecrate memories to the fallen
And somewhere a mother will never see her son
And a father will never hug his daughter
And a child will go without a parent....

We went from love to hate in such a short time
Only yesterday did you tell me that you loved me
Today, about today.... a disassociation
Love became a word, without reflection or thought
Or felt....

How lonely sits the city
Ensconced with millions of lonely souls
Apathy rules this city, a despair within
The sickness quantifies and it calibrates
Changing form, becoming a personality disorder
Yet it is also physical
Mental
Emotional.

The sickness feeds itself and grows deeper and stronger
Plentiful is its picking
The wound grows larger
Blackening the ledger
Love blurred; its meaning lost.

How lonely this city sits
On the bones of Apathy,
Filled with the souls of the lost.