We Are Poem by Chris Noir

We are the few,
The ones that remain,
Spineless and dry and
Waiting for rain.

We are the final,
The ending is nigh,
The world in denial is
Waiting to die.

Soft and bloodless fainting whispers,
Never knowing truth or lies,
Never known the cruel from gentle,
Never lived, and time flies by.

Mild and tender bleeding lilies,
Roses died 'cause they had thorns,
There's a plot to drown all feelings,
That can rise with songs to war.

We are the blood,
The earth and the steel,
We are impaled on,
Ever turning wheel,

We are the bone,
The flesh and the brain,
We're being erased,
But we don't complain.

Scattered loveless, crawling wisdom,
Never cared for never loved,
Waiting for the true affection,
Burning rocks fall from above.

Plain and proper blinded peasants,
Always happy and content,
Products of a diseased planet,
That awaits a freezing death.

We are the few,
The chosen, the last,
Powerless peons,
Scorned and surpassed,

We are the core,
The craft and the art,
We are rotting and
Falling apart.