To the world’s finest contender-
If you could see us all today.
In the midst of our surrender,
You must be so disappointed in this day and age.
There is good in everyone, until there is not.
And the good in this world is running low.
I have yet to feel your distraught,
But I have not created this earth, like so.
Suicide is especially sad-
We cannot bare another day.
How could you let it get this bad?
As I’m sure you oversee our graves.
Creator, I’m not saying you are at fault.
We, the people, take control.
But that control has torn us apart.
And now we’re sorry, we’ve let it go.
What has this world come to?
Is this what you’ve planned?
To us, it’s a game;
But you’ve dealt the hand.
Evil comes and flaunts it’s beauty,
We have a weakness, that is true.
And when all that beauty turns to black-
Then we come praying back to you.
Wherever you are, whomever you may be-
Deliver us from ourselves-
Or we’ll be damned for eternity.