Hope's Last Call- A poem about Judgement and a need for reassurance

My eyes have been tainted

With the shades of betrayal

The blinds don’t block the light anymore

The sun went away long ago

In my world of twisted shadows

It’s a bunch of familiar faces

Molded how I wish to see them

Because the truth behind them is too ugly to see

I walk these desecrated streets

Scars of broken souls the scene

You’d think the end has come already

Yet in fact we are just fighting for what’s inevitable

You can hold back what you feel

But the truth stands before us all

And only so much can be tried

For a world that has come undone

It’s the loose touch in the screw

The picture that is incomplete

That is the world we live in

Because completion, and acceptance

Has become a rarity, as opposed to commodity

We seek the impossible

In a society that lives a vindicator

Of social status

So look into the mirror

And take in what you see

Cause in this obscene rarity

We see ourselves; a living being

Wishing to be taken in

We can only be ourselves

Live the day; phases of hell

And in the end hope to stand tall

A breathing being, at hopes last call

©Sean Monaghan 1/28/2013