For the time has come, and all of us can see
You are not all is said to be
Land of the free, a promise of liberty
Only a distilled version of reality
Because in this world, our eyes will never meet
There is no connection between you and me

Could it be the remembrance of southern trees
Or the scent of magnolia in the breeze
For you to believe you are still better than me?
Be it colored, all that is outside of white
My people put up a good fight
Our eyes open but you wish them closed
Souly to be forgotten
Like the names of my ancestors I will never know

Years of despair
Our diaspora now everywhere
Your destruction sails from sea to sea
Berlin as the start, oh how you scattered us to parts
A tryst of greed with some tea
Railroads our only opened doors
Forced onto this shore, we had always wanted more
The motherland was never yours

But fear is the only language you speak
For the time has come and we all now see
You were never one to bring peace
And never what was said to be

Maybe it’s because we want to seem ok
To disregard the hurt and pain that we feel inside on our emptiest days
Maybe it’s because we wish things were different
To have the slightest bit of hope hanging from a thread, intertwined with the aching of our hearts
Maybe it’s because we aspire for change
To long of a time where the universe aligns with our internal clocks and gives us just one last chance.

But maybe it’s because we know that chance will never come
And the burn marks of our inner misery turn into scars we can never ignore
To wear our suffering on our sleeves and let the agony of our existence cloth the rest of us
Maybe it’s because in soul-time we know certain thoughts may never come and lie to rest
To let our daydreams last till nightfall and whisper our deepest desires to the moon.

But when morning comes, the heights of grey turn to yellow, for the sun shall always rise
And we awaken ourselves, returning back to the reality of lies
We look at our reflection, a clear image of our despair
For what we can see may never be of deceit
And our crooked smiles tell the real truth between you and me.

Why I am not enough the first time around?
A black shadow in a colorful room.
Pink and purple splattered on the walls.
Yet my darkness drips stilly, a momentum so tranquil.
The thought of this wraps around me tightly.
Can love not seem to hug me? Even as I hold it close?
I guess love washes over those in the mix pink and purple.
What a collision, a lovely magenta.
But what about me?
Within my darkness, there is infinite depth.
Within my darkness, there is grounded beauty.  
But it seems as though magenta is the brightest of all, where my shadow just lays in it's shining.
Erasing me from all of eternity, an almost invisible silhouette.

I poured my heart out to him,
Like water in a glass.
The reflection of my soul deep within its splashes,
But he slipped as it overflowed.
He didn’t drink it fast enough.
Slipping from every side.
The life of me now splattered on the floor.
Everyone can see,
I poured my heart out to him.
But he slipped.
And all of who I was to him soaked beneath his feet.
For I was apart of him,
And he was only wearing me.

Only they touch me like that.
With their fingers pretending my back is a violin.
Gently running up and down,
They make their way up.
There’s a twirl near my neck,
Rolling into my hair.
Their fingers interlock with my coils,
So gracefully massaging.
They pull my head closer,
Up near the chest, where their heart beat sounds.
My arms wrapped on the waistline, keeping our bodies as one.
This is our love position, closest to the soul.

They say mind over matter,
But sometimes the sadness is so heavy.
Pushing down on your vibrant vibrations,
And making a small tingle feel like a burn sent from hell.
It is too heavy and as if,
It cradles you, reassuring of how much of your sanity it really carries.
You’re scared to fall,
So you sit still and wait.
Sinking in, down to the depths of you that were unforeseen and
through you in every direction, it is now the one sitting still.
Leaving you with the doubt of ever getting your seat back,
The seat of mental control.
It rocks you, back and forth,
Somewhat of a wooden pendulum, soft with yet rough creaks.
For your time is almost, to the nearest end, over.

It was the type of hurt that trembled within you.
The type to make one’s heart shiver in anticipation for another's warm reassurance.
To think she and I are the same is nothing but a shame to our pronounced love kindling flame.
Hearing those words, my self esteem boiled while dripping down my legs and into my feet, leaving me with the numbing sensation of not knowing where we stand anymore.
I hope you do not slip on over those drops of me, my self identity.