Here we sit, perched upon the throne of life. At our feet stands the ravished sucklings of our race, eyes red rimmed with unshed tears. All the wrongs made by man, clawing, scrabbling at his robes. With open arms and concealing smiles, we bend, arms out stretched, pulling those beautious creatures of our souls towards us. Upon our laps sits the childeren of our actions, pretentious and crass, their ruddy faces upturned, gaze begging. We look into thos pitless depths, searching for the answers we cannot provide. Pupils souless, hearts wrought from whimsical wants are facing us. Nothing is left of them, empty as their fathers that have bore them from the beginning of time. For we as a human race has created this sickening life form that wanders from land to land, across the seas of blue. Our children that are stricken with prejudice and sin, that plea to have their creators' love once more. But, as they stumble, tripping over fallen siblings, towards every home, every face they meet, our children are given the backs of our prode and are met with the snapping jaws of denial. And thus they will scavange on until the end of time. Human kind's offspring is sallow with ignorance, fed with indifference. The children of today, the adults of tomorrow, what shall become of this world?
Hopeliss Community Member 
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