Hatred To Breed Love

Tiny whispers float against the edge of sanity,
Swearing oaths for the sake of the breaking,
Fluttering over the brink of emotion; pure and unbridled,
Not yet weary of the jaded people, starving minds.

Break-neck dissonance at the brink of love,
A cat to scratch a man to death.
Meaningless knowledge of forever and beyond;
Given in devotion to the deaf, blind, mute, goddess.

Greed rules the precious few, the ones who know only self
And in the self is power and freedom and hatred,
Hatred to breed love and kindness and faith,
Hatred to create a perfect harmony of chords.

Beauty is the blind artisan painting his life in chalk,
Washed away at the first murmurs of rain,
Still spoken in the words of mute beggar children;
Spawn of drunken whores and dark-eyed politicians.

And one day soon, a day of joy and pain,
The one to end the beginning will take rise.
But the only one who can change the world is it's maker;
A creator who exists in the world and without the world.

Long lasting days bake arrogance into the ground,
Winding coils of fear around the trees
And covering the forest ground in knife-needles;
For the greater good of what?

The light across the sky is the first fingers of night,
Striking out against what has been written;
Written as law, unchangeable, crumbled to dust.
Why-- because we are the law, we are the few, the many,

The politicians, the tattooed whores who can't afford the rent.
We are the ones who can change our world;
Not because we have been given an opportunity,
But because we have wrenched it from the grasp of its rightful heir.

Why, still you ask, why?
Because it had to be done; someone had to bloody their hands,
The greater good wasn't enough for the many,
For the helpless, the hopeless, and the great.