Cursed be the memory that led me to you – it was an illusion
A trick of the mind which entered me like a toxic pollution
The pollinated air and well-trained disguise guided me by making me adaptive
Those allergies produced a cough and itch that’s prisoned me captive
How could I ever resist that infallible rose
A token of blossom laced with the protection of the thorns which are clothes
I’m cut by the tender clinch
Reminded yet again that everything we hold requires us not to flinch
A forged experience completely entwined by a complex tribe
If we only listened to the call of the shadows – Would this still be a bribe?
Now, I’m like a ghost wishing to belong to a world opposite of the dream
Steady longing for those sketches of empty frames which scream
Envisioning to be filled yet again with color and personality
The curse of belonging is a memory from the heart of commonality but not factuality
People have a right to be angry and to boil in the esteem of their indignation. Subtle jabs and obvious punches hurt just the same. A response is warranted after an attack has been made. What’s the point in standing silently after abuse has been committed?
An inner scream must become public and demanding as bruises are not private affairs. Scars account for real tissue that is embedded in trauma. Injustice parades in the street shamelessly. The voice of justice must be heard and amplified. There is no sitting around when a war is decorated as a playground.
There is outrage and fury after one has been taken through the fire. We’ve been burned. Scared and stripped of our heritage. We’ve been described as criminals. The mere existence of evil has been spelled with the same alphabet we’ve used to speak peace. Terror is etched through the airwaves to confuse and bankrupt us.
By decreeing scattered promises which are scorned through the agenda of absurdity. This absurdity is rooted in a division. Through lackluster vision which empties unity. They have forgotten the breath of oxygen that breathes into us all. Because of this – lamentation haunts the walls of the neglected.
We are the unheard. The impoverished. But we stand to win with our strength. Our dreams are made of courage and honor. We have not forgotten our magic. Our minds are adorned with wisdom. We’ve partaken from the science of our tribulations. We have the knowledge and we’ll be damned to not enforce the learning from our studies.