The World

I wrote this poem when I was like 16. I just found it going through a notebook. It's a little different. It's not really supposed to rhyme.

The World

A voice never heard
Speaks the truth
Overpowered with lies
And the evil of a sin

Like a small child
Unable to fight for her own
Dependent on others
As they destroy her soul

Hidden by a mask
Of paint and tears
Victims of love
Corrupted with hate

Never knowing
Right over wrong
Life is a long
Never ending lie

Made of broken hearts
Fears to overcome
Fools unable
To pull themselves out

Death we become
As we turn against ourselves
Changes to accept
Unable to find the path

And who is the judge
What is the verdict
Guilty?
Or innocent of sin

As people wonder
Who they've become
Blind to reality
Deaf to the truth

And this is the world, of which we live!