Sshh, no longer do I cry
The stretching of my womb
The wounded scars on my knees
I seek mercy,
Mercy has failed me
The urban clusters uproar
Fresh blood lingers
Look, look again
It's on the floor
Behind locked doors
Lost in the brightness of night
I ask for peace
Peace has left me
Shadows of the four fathers
Lye in the abyss of fermented history
Vapors of our four sons
Scattered in our misery
Allowing my ears to speak
My mouth to listen
Still the Darkman wallows
I ask for change,
Change has rejected me
They Say Its A Process
However, it's not processed
A means to be silenced
Dressed in grave clothes
Strapped for death
High off of defeat
Burdened by invisible coffins
Running from our shadows
Rejecting our reflections
Undermining our intelligence
I ask for chance,
Chance has bypassed me
In the cool of the day
Sleep escapes me
Pondering over the stepping stones
That have become
Stumbling blocks
A topic of discussion
A chapter to read
A testimonial print
An undocumented documentary
A factual novel
A torn painting
A wordless book
A useless sermon
I ask for truth,
Truth hides from me
