I saw fireworks

Tiny explosions of reds
yellows and purples colliding --
Fourth of July through a kaleidoscope

So much happening
yet my mind sits in a daze
Your lips, your taste, is everything.

My body is numb
The heart dictating all
until its beat rings clear

I saw fireworks

I wanted to tell you that
this cut on my leg
wasn't a shaving accident.
That the beads of rubies
weren't from clumsy fingers,
but from strong trembling hands.
I thought I'd tell you that
I enjoyed the way it felt,
the idea that I was alive --
that string of scarlet pearls
was proof that I had a heart,
that it still beat --
no matter how faint.
I wanted to wear the red jewels
around my neck
as some sort of prize.
No,
as some kind of evidence
that I
          was
                 not
                       hollow --
                 I'm
         still
here.
Try to wipe them away,
but they only become
one of Van Gogh's strokes --
beautiful.
meaningful.
I am alive.

You have to do more than believe
if you want to change the world.
Prayers and shooting stars
just won't cut it anymore.
Get off your knees and
go serve the god you're so devout to.
It's time
                                                 to march,
                                                 to protest,
                                                  to cry out into empty winds
because it's better to be heard
than to die silent.

Here we are,
the mighty army of misfits
gathered together
and even though the threat of
torrential downpour looms over us,
the drizzle doesn't seem to matter.
We sing and dance,
chant poetry as if
it's a religious hymn.
This small voice in me --
withered and stripped down --
is no longer so.
With the voice of my army
we can crumble the mountains
that stand in our way,
part the oceans
that keep us apart.
Here we are,
the mighty army of misfits,
and we will not leave
without a fight.