How do you phrase the ideals of a soul,
When your spirit's trapped within' a shell.
A heart that wears till it's thin as glass,
Yet hollowed when grown to bitterness.
Your health will fair on a pair of genes,
But you'll drag yourself till you're on your knees.
To be carried off by a brute or dame,
You're left to gamble till you lose the game.
You play your cards on the hope of chance,
To see your future in the palm of your hands.
You greed the rich and hate the poor,
For love isn't something you need anymore.
(It's not finished but I thought I might as well post it.)