A Crown of Ash on a Vacant Throne

The spiritual realm in turmoil 
with all of life about to spoil.

The soul is a warzone.

Without a clear vision: 
possession is the condition.
The spirit of anger 
aimed at the fat banker.
The spirit of fear;
retreat from what is dear.

My soul is not my own.

Envy, guilt, and resentment;
who is to blame for discontentment?
The spirits do battle;
The people treated like cattle;
cemented for the new foundation.
For a fate of eternal damnation.

Will the truth become known?

Pointing in every direction;
avoiding a grotesque reflection.
Spirits have taken me;
anger won't let me be;
fear won't let me be free:
the perfect little trustee.

Live as a mindless drone.

Can you shake the obsession 
and become your own possession?
Name the demons deep in the soul;
cast them away; allow yourself to be whole.
A spirit of courage, truth, and goodwill; 
break free from the perpetual mill.

A crown of ash on a vacant throne.

Nobody should be above consequence:
Face your sins and be honest in repentance.
And pay the debt for the sake of the descendants.

Place demands on the person you know;
look within and start learning how to grow.
To hell we have been, and back again, we will go.

Stop your habit of deriding and making hate.
Instead, turn your head and learn to appreciate.
But to hell with those who would have you stagnate.

Instead, let your spirit of reciprocity unwind.
Join in the beauty that comes; your life: redefined.