Wretched Idealist

Call me a fool,

A wretched idealist;

A liberal tool,

An utter unrealist.

Your labels fall short;

Your arrows won’t pierce.

Why must we distort

Compassion so fierce?

When did we cease

Believing we could

Be a power for Peace,

Doing all that we should?

When did progress become

Our enemy’s name,

Abandoning some

Just to keep things the same?

I pray we will turn

And pursue a new road.

I pray we will learn,

That our wounds may be sewed.

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