I have killed.
Mutilated beings.
Destroyed homes.
And un-kindly,
Committed genocide.

A lone song bird, fell by my youth.
Tears that day for the first recognition.
Guilt.

The progress that commands attention,
drives my bemoaning hand to ****.
Blades cutting for looks amongst the wild,
dicing any who lay beneath them.

In my hast to live in progress,
I am led to disrupt the belittled
Creatures of the land.

Colonies fell by the fire of my confusion.
In youth I withered to conform to the norm.
The creatures killed by a giants hate.

Alas I find the world is riddled to death;
The secret need to ****, the secret darkness in all.
A shadow to the life we dream,
but a shadow unseen.