What It Means To Exist

I look down at my hands
and they are human,
not much opportunity in them
what do we contribute to our already broken society
we've lost our ways and stopped caring..

and i hear the lullabies of all the innocent lives
and the pain they adhere too because hope left them to die
these are the hardest times
and only the few who choose to survive and progress
will be left to pick up the pieces
the pieces to this mess

and we are disease
incapable of love without hatred
incapable of reason
back to the stone age we go
because we live off instinct
and not logic...we all forgot it

we all will be forgotten...