The Times of Pain

By Andrew R. Duckworth

When man becomes the ant
Under the lawman’s boot,
When choice succumbs to death
And voice is seen as moot,
When powers rise through lies
To all reason uproot,
The times of pain have come
With no one left astute.

When ice begins to break
Beneath our barren feet,
When eyes have failed to see
The beast’s new golden seat,
When war drums play loud and
Feet follow to the beat,
The times have left us blind
To our coming defeat.

When wickedness arrives
And puts good men in chains,
When blood pours out in pools
And we don’t feel the pain,
When we no longer see
The need to wash our stains,
The times of good are done
And wickedness remains.

When oceans turn to blood
From carrying the dead,
When we need ties that bind
But cannot find the thread,
When we seek out to speak
But thoughts are left unsaid,
The times of good have lost
To breed evil instead.