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Thrown to the coals

Thrown to the coals
That no one knows
Our lives fleeting
Will we ever find meaning?

In all our world we know not the fool,
Who is in our self to breed out the tool;
All angels know god
And their pick-up isn't barred.

As humans, us mammals
Are like shotgun barrels.
Our tainted food not kept pure is a killer,
But as long as it lines your pockets is just filler.

On the road of the day
We carry on our way,
On a whim feel the sway..
Do we care anyway?
It seems not after years,
All that's left are fears;
Of eachother of what's inside
Father mother brother sister hide..

The chains should rust soon
And like an angry baboon,
We must take to the trees
To see how we can flee.
Looking over all we've destroyed,
As we've played with the world as a toy:
Feeling that it can be broke
And replaced,
Is a joke
That is laced
With no gratitude or hope
And our lives we're feed keep us doped

It feels there's no way out

Yet if only we would scream and shout
From the roof-tops of our nations,
About civil discriminations

Maybe we could break
This constant torture and rape
Cycle, that we've born unto the world
And watch a new age unfold.
If for nothing but for future generations,
We need emancipation.
But it will only come through action
Of our own benefaction:
My voice alone cannot be loud enough but with all the world in tow,
Maybe one day it could be heard, that we've ended this stupid row

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
A random rambling rant. This is V0.2 - To put it simply, V0.1 had the words entered as they are, with no punctuation or paragraphs.
Editing stage: 


Thanks for the comment eph.
You really don't think it's, I dunno, lame, the 'content' of the poem, a random detour...
This being a general rant, the way I wrote it was how I posted it and considering your thoughts, I decided to give the reader that breath. I quite like it.
But without much ado, I posted it for external review... Any better?

If I had it my way I'd be up on a mountain. Playing my guitar,
until my calluses grew calluses, my arse a chair and my smile into a halo

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