Born to a Wicked World
Born to a wicked world,
where shadows stretch long,
where kindness is currency
spent and gone.
Life is a fight,
a struggle to stand,
clawing for breath
with blood on our hands.
The wolves wear smiles,
the saints wear chains,
truth is buried
beneath gold-stained names.
Survival is war,
no mercy, no peace,
born to the battle,
we die for release.
Fists on the pavement,
rage in the air,
hope is a whisper
that fades in despair.
The strong grow colder,
the weak disappear,
love is a weapon
they teach us to fear.
Steel in our voices,
fire in our veins,
we rise from the wreckage
still shackled in chains.
Born to a wicked world,
torn, yet alive
no gods to save us,
only the will to survive.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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