Skin:
Pigment is culture.
Sweat rains down, it's our ocean.
Bleach nurture light, why?
Bloody History:
Make the folklore sing
with slashes of dying peace.
Scars are cords of rights.
Tattoos:
Ink stories on flesh;
scared of waking human art.
Needles feed the blood.
Cigarettes:
Lungs expand with smoke.
Red sparks eat weeds, burn fingers.
Lips exhale grey death...
YOU ARE READING
When Only Paper Can Save
PoetrySueño con un paraíso colorido, que el himno nacional sea un latido. The flag will not know bloodshed. Bad people will see what's truly up ahead. Yo quiero que el humano sea humano y que sus acciones no sean en vano. I want people to be treated e...
