Who Are They

Who are these people?

Who are they who say they know better?

Who are the ones who say they have any right?

The ones who claim they are entitled?

The ones that say they deserve?

The ones that covet what another one has worked so hard to obtain?

Whilst they sit back and watch.

These are the dangerous,

These are the troublesome,

These are the ones who cause war.

These people are who spread the chaos.

If we only lived without those who sucked like leeches off the work of others.

If only we stood united and undaunted by the tricks of the others.

If only we could recognize those who sit in dark corners,

See the puppet master working the strings,

And not fall victim to the mesmerizing finger work,

Which evermore distracts from the truth.

The truth?

You have to ask “What truth?”

Don’t you?

The truth that these people are the malice,

The truth that these individuals are the source of our confusion.

The truth that even on the brightest of summer days,

There are still those patches of cold,

A winter dark sitting, waiting, manipulating,

PREYING on the unaware.

Like vultures waiting to get the scraps,

From what remains of other people’s turmoil.

If only we could see the light.

If only we could see,

Who they really are.

© Brian Harwood 2012 March