Moral Dirt

A flower lives inside me

Though it is hardly known

A sense of what lies in me

Though it weighs like it's a stone

A consciousness of feeling

An awareness of some doubt

That others have a flower

Though their strength, they flout

So my flower is a sense of what

All I know is wrong

The corruptive powered influence

The choice to snap her thong

I am conscious there are children

Who do not have a name

The things that happened to them

Should not occur again

Those who are in power

Those who steer the boat

They're not trying to make us happy

Or even care if we're afloat

How do I reconcile with this?

The evil that abounds

How to live with hints of knowledge

Yet unable to make a sound

Not the one to fix the problem

It has lived here all the while

The hatred for the innocent

The abused and murdered pile

Cos they're stacked up like they're dominoes

And we all fall when they're tipped

If there was a way to deal with this

An easy solution that could fix

The attitude of people,

Who feel they have the right

Or at least enough of cash and power

To successfully win the fight

I know that this observance of

My sensibility

Is a chance for me to see the others

To respect fragility

It is not personal weakness

It's a dreaded knowledge of

The wickedness that reveals itself

Beneath all of the fluff

So they put a mask on, as should I

To enable them to work

To leave the house, try to ignore

The filth and moral dirt