Are you a burnt little matchstick? Struck against scraping sandpaper Till you shine bright enough to be a star, But the joy of being enough is robbed by the end, without going far.
Burnt, crippled, broken, and used, Now showing no more potential nor promise, You are thrown away by the world, Tossed in a pile without a thought, The light you brought, they forgot, So they have simply left you to rot.
I suppose there was truth when Calpurnia said: "The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes."
For as I stare out my window, Glancing at heaven above and ground below, I see white lilies mourn the loss of a kind soul from this world, And the mighty heavens themselves stand in shame at their helplessness.
On this day A great and kindly spirit was robbed from this Earth, Far too early, sooner than one would anticipate,
And simply... That.
That spirit has left this Earth, and left us mortals in its wake As fleeting as the picture captured With these gifts called memories.
The delicate peace promised to us by the leaders of the world hangs on a balance that tilts steadily towards the rough, violent arms of war. The modern day and age, the one that promised this peace and progress, has seemingly forgotten the many suffering souls around the world, still oppressed, still denied their basic human rights. It is our duty, as citizens of our respective countries, and as individuals living in this world, to brighten this world for all those in it, to leave it a better place than when we entered it, and above all, to seek justice and recompense for those wronged by the powerful voices of this world.
Luminousis 