How many angels have I shed to make way for the demons in my head?

How many bodies have I eaten and abused in my bed as I look for the lost love in my sheets that only shows when its red.

A poem of love and death, a tale of lust and hate, this is a crime of passion led astray.

Skin like a doves breath, a voice of trust and filled with hope and fate, one day the beauty and art of you will help me find my way.

Even if it means our death is to be the outcome of a beautifully painful day.

keep talking
keep remembering
say the names
of the ones
who fought
with paper and pen
say the names
of those who protested
say the names
of the ones who
were tortured
the ones whose deaths
were written out and fabricated for them
the ones who
were taken from their families
never to be found or buried
say the names
of the ones whose futures
and lives
were taken away
under the rule of a dictator
who got away with it.

no,
we won't let it all fall
into their bloodied hands.
we won't let them rewrite
our history for their pride;
say the names
of the ones lost, the ones who fought
until our voices are loud enough
and our words are visible
in the name of justice.

we will keep remembering,
we will never forget.