Your hope collapsed like a burning orphanage
Under the weight of their expectations
It must seem routine for you now
Snowing in their spit, languishing in their
Refuse a [unverified]
A victim of disease called circumstance
Their real faces are the faces of disgust
The only kind you see from down here, here
There is no healing only the slowing of decay
I've heard they still smile in their world
Perhaps you will go there someday
And destroy their happiness