Hear my words
I was born under the silent night
And brought up by pain’s twilight
Not born with a silver spoon
Nay!no golden spoon graced my putrid tongue
I was born with no spoon at all!
My skin is dyed black
By the generosity of the furious sun
No gunshots spelt my entry on earth
What would we have given?
To barte in exchange for the bullets allegiance?
I was young yet never a child
At eighteen yet not a teen
But a man who carried the worlds weight
For each day my father held smacking hand
And mother felt whistling slap
I look on while kissing comforting tears
The fangs of these memories
Still dig deep into my mind
Crunching its pillars as dog to bone
I’d always breathed
But never lived
Pain made me a man and never a child
So let no man speak to me
Of unequal birth and unequal fingers
I have heard enough!suffered enough!!
For if I be god a day
Would I not cut down to size
Each fleshy finger that dug into golden plates
While I furrowed into regal plate made of wind?
Yay! I would!
I honestly would!
-The ashes of this Childhood birthed this phoenix
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.