We are not poets.
Nor are we artists.
We are the bleeding hearts
Daring to rebel.
Society cuts this world into careful little blocks.
Devided by cold cut stones forced to comply.
And yet,
If you look a little closer, you will notice,
Not us, for you will never see our face
But you will see our fragments.
The pieces of us we leave behind for you
Scattered among these cold stone walls
Words we have carved into the stone
With our own ****** nails.
Proof that we exsist.
Proof that you can to.
So here we are,
Strings of letters
And scattered lines,
All echoing the same war cry.
“We Are Here.”
"Are You?"
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
We are not poets.
Nor are we artists.
We are the bleeding hearts
Daring to rebel.
Society cuts this world into careful little blocks.
Devided by cold cut stones forced to comply.
And yet,
If you look a little closer, you will notice,
Not us, for you will never see our face
But you will see our fragments.
The pieces of us we leave behind for you
Scattered among these cold stone walls
Words we have carved into the stone
With our own ****** nails.
Proof that we exsist.
Proof that you can to.
So here we are,
Strings of letters
And scattered lines,
All echoing the same war cry.
“We Are Here.”
"Are You?"
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