This isn't something or someone you bring home to mom,
This is a jaded piece of glass with a a fading cigarette dancing from his lips.

This isn't what you dreamt of from children's books,
This is you finding Prince Charming half unconscious in the gutter, a little too faded for his own well being.

This isn't your dad coming home tonight, or any night soon,
This is seven years of you trying to play catch with yourself in the yard but knowing you don't have the strength, let alone the will power to go the distance this time around.

This isn't the party where you kiss everyone with loose ends,
This is where you collapse on the couch at 4 from being love drunk, with a hint of whiskey on your sour tongue.

This isn't closing your eyes and clenching onto your rosary hoping God calls you back,
This is the devil picking up the first time around and telling you what you really want to hear, telling you to **** all your darlings by day break.

This isn't about peace to your superiors,
This is about claiming what was rightfully obtained in the ruins, shackles on your ankles and a rib cage with roses blossoming on the inside.

This isn't about equal governance,
This is about the sands of time knowing those who have vanished,
While the top see no one below.

This  isn't about a single deity,
This is about letting you freely walk these lands and not having to seek refuge from those trying to claim you and the temples you structured.

This isn't about the right of passage,
This is about our land, this is about giving you a home when yours lays in ruin waiting to be built up again, ready to be claimed.

This isn't about the war of the strip,
This is about letting those who exist claim who they are,
claim where they stand as a holy ground to their ancestors.

This isn't a war song,
This is for those born not of a home and still call the distance between two spaces the place where they belong, where they come from.

This isn't a holy war,
This is a war spell bound cluster **** of ignorance, allowing you to free the bomb drops but not letting you seek shelter during the aftershock,
We can run you to the grit but we can't let you see where we lay our heads for some narcissistic reason.  

This isn't about being separate from the path,
This is about paving a new path, about creating the new gap between youth and art.

This isn't about politics,
This is about birthing a new generation of equal representation.

This isn't about showing the world we care about women,
This is letting you know all women are power, the are our youth and our wise, they are our support beams and our battle axes,
Let them shine with the stars as they were birthed to.

This isn't an ode to love,
This is me telling you I love you.