Ark of Noah was he to me,
saving the me that was stuck in the foul estuary,
saving the me that was caught in a lie,
flourishing the me that hid deep within.
The scarlet on my hands, it was not my fault,
or, at least, that's what he told me.
But rather, the fault was with the world, with the system,
with the complex that they ensnared us in since birth.
We must break free, he said;
We are better than them, he whispered in my ear;
We have awakened, he swirled in my head;
And I chose to believe.
