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Gabriel Herrera Jul 2020
Society forges the problems of the world from scraps
Voicing opinions as tools
Thicker than wool
Creating a line of division stronger than steel
While we allow the blacksmith to spin the disastrous wheel
This is no game
But if the price is right
We'll gladly "come on down" after they announce our name
Oh, the crimes we commit for the glory and fame

We, the Blacksmith
Gabriel Herrera Jul 2020
The spin to my records, Scream

Makes it all easier

To face the music

Relentless trouble

And I drown it all out with noise

A choice between Hell and America

Heaven now too good for anyone

I perish between

The perfect and righteous

The flawed, Rip the hostages

I've trapped

In my mind

They are chained and scarred by my mistakes

That in the moment were choices opposed

To a dead end

My screams now level

Only an octave higher

From the massacre I've deserved

I've been targeted

After...

All the abuse and trauma I caused

How could I have known then?

My mind once creating scenarios on how

I'd sceme my way into getting what I craved

I, deprived of what was not needed

Just wanted it so bad

Those I've hurt

I'd never hurt again

If given all tools and resources to do such

I'd use them upon my soul

To dispose of reek planted by shame

You live and learn

And all my knowledge now

Is put on hold until

Their hurt

Mirrors mine

Resembling

Shattered plastic

Because I'm stubborn

And Glass too fragile

Reminds me of a relic reflection
Gabriel Herrera Jul 2020
I may be young
But I believe 16 years of experience is worth 16 stepping stones
To reach the expectations of society
And spit in the face of it

We are prey to the predators
Involved in a war of existence
Where we bleed tears
And cry blood
Functioning wrong
Because we are told we are never right

Validation we rarely receive is sweet they say

The predators

But how do we know when they

The predators

Sliced our tongues to hide our screams

Trouble is lurking from the parents that gift the children with what they want
In contrast to what the children need

My pen doubles as a society cleanser
Writing all the wrongs in all colored inks
Inspired by the beautiful equal people
And I take that sliced, beaten down wood
So I can shove it down their ******* throats

And I find peace under their tears
I craft it into a blanket
Yes, its cold
However, my body is warm from the scars of bullet shells, death stares, and unwanted opinions

A shameful balance
Written 2 years ago

Still relevant.
Gabriel Herrera Jul 2020
Your name became the jingle

I hated from the moment heard

Then found myself singing it

The following morning

So catchy beneath my lips

It tangled into muscle memory

Too weak to loosen the grip

Of horrendous rhythm

Now laughter brews from concern

That it will never leave my mind

Thankfully

I've prepared for these occasions

Firstly, find distractions

As to

Stuffing my mouth

Clouding my mind

But it only stunts

My new nature

To repeat the sweet ring

Your name gives my heart

I cannot part from the joy

It brings to me like

The coolest toy I begged for

But what I know now all too well is that toy

Will become an afterthought

Collect dust on the tallest shelf

I'll never bother reaching

And I'll move on to the next catchy jingle

Let it marinate in my diaphragm

And allow it to eat me up entirely

Leaving me hollow

Only left with bits and pieces of all

The names I sang

To keep me company

****.

I wish I never heard any

Of those **** Jingles
Gabriel Herrera Jul 2020
I hate cut grass

It is only a reminder that no matter how hard you shave it down

It just grows back vengeful

The due process only settles with the bag of worms let out

Airing out all the dirt

Making an already tense situation now uncomfortable

Like prickling grass between your toes when you've lost your chanclas

I hate cut grass

Love the smell

But that's besides the point

— The End —