New Year, new empty promises

New love, new loss

New hope, new disappointments

Put this renewel under microscope

Same old, same old.

Whether it’s love for the game

or love for the culture

You always come up short.

As we march away from our history

We relive massacres of old-new

Women still trampled

Rights thrown asunder

Withering almost seems appropriate.

We draw from the fool

Gambling in futures we have no stake in

Housing cruelty

and deeming it the hand we’re dealt.

Borderline seeking permission to grow

While our numbers grow out of hand

All in accordance to a higher vision

Yet God forsaken

What are we, but children of this world?

Pity for our Youth

Tainted by sins of their father

Adults bear blood on their hands

For the sake of endangered lives.

Independent yet incompetent

The troubles of our forefathers

Reluctant pride of our peers

Kindness encouraged

is no common interest.

Was not there a harmony

before history was rewritten by victors?

We live in our alternate timeline

Truths overlapping

Same old, same old.

Stricken of the fruits of our labour

and scorned for irresponsibility

Only a goood wouldn’t consider thieves

and protect heritage from our fellow man.

We entertain the act

of humanising monsters

and declaring peace times

Ambition, delusion, censorship

For, what is a monster?

My time of creation and completion

Each passage a reminder of impending end

And though it is but one life

We always get back on our feet.

We celebrate the same old traditions

Fall to the same mistakes and despairs

Tales old as time

forgotten and revised

Same old, same old.