No one hears, no one complains

No one tears, no one strains

Rotting moans of complacency

The new world amenity

Too soft to contend

Too brittle to bend

A quickening that aches

Too fragile to break

Chasms of mistakes

Floods in the wake

In every passing micro moment, decisions

And every misstep, overcrowded prisons

Proven in time

Your wounds are mine

Self perpetuate

Another wound to make

Paths of life

Trampled in scars

Proven in timе

Your wounds are mine

Proven in timе

Your wounds are mine

Too soft to contend

Too brittle to bend

Too fragile to break