The Infection of Deception

I

The crimson sun crawls from the clouds of ash,

While the lifeblood of the fallen stays warm,

Whom lost in the ruined fields of innocent lives,

Where the cries of the deceived rose.

The fire of hatred burns within them all,

While the dove of peace flew further away.

They were said to “deliver justice” and “bring peace”,

They marched to do so, as the heroes of a nation,

But with guns of “glory” and cires of “victory”,

That served well to “follow orders” and “satisfy hunger”.

Greed from the puppeteers watched from far.

Seeds were planted, in the hearts of young with scar.

In their shiny vehicles, they come back to their homes,

With wounded men, who were once glory of a ruined land,

Dragged by the soldiers, whose badges were covered in blood,

Who have molded hearts so fake, with no mercy at all.

Though the wails aren’t prominent in their dreams yet,

The fallen heroes hear them all, near the face of death.

II

When the sky brightened, in the day of the judgement,

When the fallen soldiers were judged by the guilty,

When their fates were sealed in front of a chair,

The chair that was born from the silver snakes of envy.

They laugh with their teary eyes and say, “why? Why bother…”

“When this is the reward of a blind hero?”

Seconds pass, the impatient ticks of the clock,

Behind many walls, hidden from the young,

The chair of envy and the switch of fate lay.

Ready to do miracles, zapping to turn life into lifeless,

They are blindfolded, so they won’t feel the same,

Pain as the innocent victims of this horrible game.

“Punishment” they say, “making the world nice”,

But, I have not seen a punishment with such a price,

Where humans forget about the wrongdoings of them,

Which they don’t cleanse the ugly sinners of them,

Which doesn’t show the path to light through dark,

Where the puppets would be gone by the time of spark.

What a pity that the mortals’ eyes are so blind,

To see the revenge plot of a society that leads not to be kind,

When a murderer is killed, is sentenced to oblivion,

How is it fair for others to be happy and lively?

False heroes thrive in their mansions of corpses,

While the fallen deaths spread the seeds once more.

III

In the ruined lands, a mother wept with a broken heart,

With a girl whose castle of dreams met with despair,

And a wife with a new weigh on her weak shoulders,

From their broken home of disrupted peace,

Tries to silence a tiny voice with a sharp tone,

“Why they did so, Mom? Why won’t we do the same?”

The land of victory partied everyday, every night,

Of their talents of slaughter and their art of killing,

But only the big puppeteers who held the strings of lies,

Laughed of their land and power, which is better now,

While the puppets, saw the broken truth of the lies,

While, facing the same sorrows they always did.

But, it was far too late, as the seeds were no more,

Instead, the trees with poisoned fruits and piercing thorns,

Covered the hearts of innocent young, with a wicked rage,

Engulfed in a stormcloud of pain and revenge,

They marched forward again, to the city of victory.

Ready to deliver justice and bring peace once again.

The land of victory was fallen, and was no more,

While the blood was spilled, of the puppets and innocent,

They broke down the mansions of corpses down to earth,

Only to build them higher than ever again.

They saw the victory of them as an “act of justice”,

While spreading the seeds, continuing the endless cycle.

IV

Eyes of greed searching the ruined land of red and grey,

The power to rule over the puppets with notes of green,

They hide the remains of battles with me,

Hoping to escape from their reckless maze of a reality,

But me, the infection of deception of them is ready,

To devour the creators and sufferers slowly but surely.

They killed the innocent of a devastated land,

Just to call it as “self-defense” and “only option”,

While punishing the deceived with unspeakable acts,

Covering it as “rules” and “laws” of a society,

They planted the seeds of revenge in the young,

Ready to call the infection as “human nature”.

There is always a part of them which,

Think it’s better to live in a lie even,

When it consumes you from inside out…

While satisfying with earthly pleasures,

While escaping from this guilt of humanity,

While not seeing the true colours of them.

You would also, fight over and over,

With the deception taking over your mind,

You would never learn to forgive,

With the infection justifying your every deed,

You would be a match of fire,

That ignites world and themselves with lies.

And I, I would look at this play,

Not as a puppeteer, but a mere observer,

As the conflict ends it with tragedy,

I would laugh with sarcasm and recall,

How they looked at the stars far away and said,

“Will there be an alien invasion to destroy us?”

The infection of deception,

From war, to punishment, to revenge,

And many more where you sugarcoat,

Would reward humanity with a gift at the end,

“A lonely planets of corpses and whispers”“

In an endless void of despair and regret”