Apocalypse

The angst of sentiments Burning a world,

Bridges of conviction Collapsing one by one,

At the edge of the street a million dead,

Buried under the rubble of their own rebel,

From the ropes of insanity hangs our promised King,

Famous in those distant lands by the name Freedom,

In the midst of such destruction that swallows an existence,

I try to define it's true form,

Maybe it's just Apocalypse kissing our souls,

Or just another fool's idea of a better world