The dawn is breaking
Bones on its back,
The opposite of odes,
A reversal of a truth
We thought we once knew,
Which we were taught was true.
We cannot feed this whole army.
Not on a diet of skin and bone,
Of ash clinging to the bronchioles
And bullets plucked like
Pomegranate seeds from our skin.
The perimeter insecure.
We **** Papa, maim Mama,
When we strike out the son,
And not so much
As a thank you m’am,
A tip of the hat towards
The floor where we
Kicked our own faces in.
We’re turning this wheel in a frenzy,
So much fury at the sound
Of a full revolution,
Whirling dervish
With time sewn in the hem
So we’re right back
where we started again.
And for what?
To pay a debt
So in the black
We bleed red to cover the ink,
And whitewash over the stain?
The cost is just too costly,
We've penny pinched the flesh
To make it count.
Our holocaust is never ending:
So many tears,
Yet still a drought.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
The dawn is breaking
Bones on its back,
The opposite of odes,
A reversal of a truth
We thought we once knew,
Which we were taught was true.
We cannot feed this whole army.
Not on a diet of skin and bone,
Of ash clinging to the bronchioles
And bullets plucked like
Pomegranate seeds from our skin.
The perimeter insecure.
We **** Papa, maim Mama,
When we strike out the son,
And not so much
As a thank you m’am,
A tip of the hat towards
The floor where we
Kicked our own faces in.
We’re turning this wheel in a frenzy,
So much fury at the sound
Of a full revolution,
Whirling dervish
With time sewn in the hem
So we’re right back
where we started again.
And for what?
To pay a debt
So in the black
We bleed red to cover the ink,
And whitewash over the stain?
The cost is just too costly,
We've penny pinched the flesh
To make it count.
Our holocaust is never ending:
So many tears,
Yet still a drought.
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