we hold the books and the powers but we choose to heed the howls of monsters chained underneath the ground. we tear up hearing their clanking chains, when they tore our nation with their very nails.
they beg for resurrection, promising to revive a non-existent glory.
a bloodied hand to raise a burning flag.
a traitorous mouth to devour limping children.
but in reality all they have are hungry pockets, hollowed by the light of those wise before us.
but now...
what will we become when the voiceless try to choke those who speak?
where will we go when this jungle's all we could call home?
YOU ARE READING
kinesus: a poetry collection
PoetryWords, how I love them, especially when my heart weaves them into verses that mirror facets of life, most I have worn and seen, some I merely envision. Regardless, the words brought me here, the same way it brought you to me. This is kinesus, a coll...
