Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy

In a world of never ending happiness
Told deep in every lies
I heard the old man hollering
To the flowers that have died

He told them of their stories
Of hate and those unloved
Simplifying anger just to make a point

Can you see the trees and how they are the same?
Some are covered in orange leaves and some are covered in rain

Can you see the grass beneath the trees?
And the texture of their blade
All this anger built up
Yet the wind still makes them sway

Butterflies take to the sky
In all their different shapes and sizes
Singing songs of laughter and other songs of disaster

Up fly the moths with their grey colour cloths sings similar songs about their lot
Which one of them is the wiser? Which one is not?

Oh please, old man who speaks
Tell me what is true?
Why is passion and opinions always hiding behind dispute?

Can it be from what you see?
Everyone needs a victory
Regardless of the message, regardless of the Hypocrisy

Old man sits down on a rock
Holds his hands out to the Sun and the clock
Simplifying matters is as foolish as it is not
He sighs at the coming rain and the pebbles glistening in the stream
Whispers words to the Northern skies of hope forever lost

It is true, the flowers of blue
There will never be an end
Not when one and the other will not see they are the same.

He lays down his weary head and turns away from sight
Wonder what will become of those silly flowers that died.
~Deena Thomson~