Soft tissues connect our bones.
Our flesh feels mostly the same.
Skin tints may vary
but strangers aren’t scary
cause despite what is different
so much is the same.

The painter breaks the paper.
Paintbrushes soften the paint,
spreading colors of beauty around us
and help us to feel something
again.

The poet puts himself
in the position of everyone else.
With heavy water words
and emotional verses
the pin ****** the skin
showing ink blood
and he bleeds art for
the world he sees.

Reporter, novelist
playwright,
comic strip artist,
don’t get paid right,
but they play with life
to bring us to the light
that we all can share.

Sorrow was never my scheme.
Pain was never my friend,
but tragedy makes us human,
and losses make us all kin.

Give me an artist that loves us
and I will show you the start
of a true revolution
of love.