Catastrophe and the cure.

Father tell me, where did I go wrong?
was it when I hurt your creation,
showed her just how strong,
is my damnation,

Was it when I coerced,
my masculinity onto her,
branding and bruising her spirit soul,
to be her conqueror

Is it that I chose to deceive,
thousands, under your guise,
with a prayer and a tether,
falsehood, and celestial alibis

Or was it when I unleashed my fury
showering kin and kind with my lust for lead,
binding them in agony
over decisions made by select country heads

It sure wasn’t when I induced,
the fires and the flames
for these lands are mine to abuse,
and these lives are mere game,

Am I not entitled to all the luxury,
for my color and creed are my bespoken mark,
a darker shade and one’s deemed unworthy,
yet we sleep peacefully in the dark

So father, why do you not reward,
much have I done for your attention,
thought we’d have struck a chord,
after I gifted you many a nation,

O Father tell me, do you hear them in prayer?
watch their tears, and feel their despair,
they hope that they can endure,
not knowing that they are the catastrophe, and the cure.

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