Hot Potatoes

There was a whole hell of feeble hands

Men and women who couldn't tend to children

Who were deemed unfit to stand

And when the time came 

They all, each and everyone caved

Gave up their loved ones

Gave up their souls

Just to make it through till tomorrow

Maybe its a little too much too late

Maybe its a tad too long to think

But the many notions that procreate this world

Tend to fall to the wayside

Of every other story ever told

And in this feeble handed hellhole

The demons glide over all

Pondering the splendorous places

That better men had died

Taking too long to delegate the construct

Feigning their ignorance all over the places

Where no one will look twice at their faces

Trying their hardest to not only build the ship

But make it twice as better

But its only a row boat

And will always be

Wasting time trying to add a shine to a shit

Listing off timid concerns

Only to have the world fall apart

Give back to the laughing stock

Take part in its absolution

I am ashamed to be abominable

I am ashamed to breathe.