A weary world

Look upon a weary world, and call it what you will

I name it split, torn apart, and on the brink of broken

brimmed with hatred, fearful now, replete with hearts unopen

this globe of poison bubbles hot, and loathing has its fill

see here, see there; the stains of man, this bitter trudge uphill

you point at me and I at you, words better left unspoken

come flying out and cut like barbs, and there the curses soak in

while small ones sit, and stare, and wait, for they shall bear the bill

yet not all is lost amidst the gloom, time still to end this duel

honest ones do strive unceasing, with tired hands to join us

to seek repair of what is broke, among these days so cruel

with words of help and healing, stitch up these wounds we must

let kindness douse the fires lit, let caring be our rule

for days to come in gentle peace, together bound in trust.