A MORAL QUESTION

Why won't they say,
when they see injustice seize the day --
why won't they speak,
when one's freedoms have been betrayed?
Freedom's intangibles:
life, liberty and the persuit of happiness;
as torture, blood, and death rolls on
while some souls wander having yet to acquire rest...
for freedom has not found them.

How does one pursue freedom,
when all they see is destruction and degradation;
when the act of loving has come to drought;
and all voices of mercy have lost their soound,
becoming mere images painted on white canvass...
no more than earthy shades to hide the bitter truths?

And how can I, one man of courage past
whose longings for life have, simply put,
been treaded upon -- slandered and crushed,
bear such awful pain:
love lost and freedoms gone...
I trust some higher being knows this truth of shame!

What is truth?
Some mere recollection of a mind too weak
to bear its own criminal schemes;
or buried fortune we have yet to find --
a word only for dialogue or speech?

Why won't they say they see injustice...
for they are injustice;
why won't they speak of freedoms betrayed?
For they love only for themselves!