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To be seen —
not as an object of desire,  
but as another human being.

To be seen—
for what she is made of,
for what strengths she carries within
and
not for what she covers her body with.

To be admired
not for her beautiful body
but for the beauty within.

Her voice to be heard
and not her screams.

To have dignity —
in life and in death.

To have self-respect.


Is it too much to ask for?
shapeshifting sand dunes

sculpting floating desert landscape

Wind —the creator.
Mind flips like aces / deck ain’t stacked—it’s cursed  
Rabbit ran but I reversed / chase the clock till time’s coerced  
Hat too loud for hush / grin stitched with fury finesse  
Drawl pulls teeth from truth / I don’t speak—I compress  

I skip through mirrors with boots in bloom / logic’s looted, tethered tomb  
Southern slang on shroomed syntax / I bend reality just to make it room  
Teacup scalded with rebel steam / slurp chaos when the world don’t dream  
Pocket watch don’t tick for me / I punctuate pain with rural gleam  

Hatter but no haberdashery / scars dressed sharp in auditory  
Wordplay thick like swamp at dusk / I spit static with auditory rush  
I don’t rap—I incant rage / every verse is stage and cage  
I craft metaphors with serpents’ teeth / spit sermons stitched in glitch and grief  

I’m madder than most but I balance the burn  
Drawl stays sly while the syllables churn  
Tea party’s dead—I just feast on the void  
Truth twisted tight like toys I destroyed  

No name, no face, just venom and spit  
Madness ain’t flair—it’s the way I commit  
If Wonderland flips, I flip first  
Trap soul in flow, then grind in verse  

Top hat packed with paradox / Southern slang slick like shadowbox  
I punch lines through paradox / my syntax spits when clocks get locked  
Verse bends time like metal warped / cadence cleaves like tongues torqued  
Y’all wear fame—I wear flame / my drawl defies and distorts  

Hooked on ink and impact scars / I rhyme in scars and rebel bars  
If thought was straight, I'd twist it / I load rhyme clips and risk it  
Ain’t sane, ain’t sorry, just sulfurous joy  
I rap like silence is something to destroy  

I ain’t the hat—I’m the storm beneath  
I speak in riddles, rot, and wreath  
If Wonderland lost me, good—  
I’m busy carving verses they misunderstood
 Aug 19 CE Uptain
Elena Rosi
The places humans go,
Oh where to?
I wan to know.

They run in circles
But never ask why.
They've become brittle
Over time.

And if they paused,
At least just to breathe.
Maybe death's claws,
Wouldn't be a thief.

Of the time they wasted
Chasing their tails.
Have they tasted
The wind at sail?

The places humans go,
Oh where to?
I wan to know.
Autumn’s Sleep
She wakes in the morning
as the sunshine’s through
pours herself a coffee
a spoon of pain and sorrow to

her friends are shades of reds, yellow
tertiary colors to

her insides so broken
for so long
they won’t fuse

She goes to sleep at ebony's feet
not caring enough
to see another tomorrow

Beautifully Broken
2024
 Aug 15 CE Uptain
nivek
winged assassin Mr Hawk
beautiful and deadly

another Dove bites the dust
feathers plucked, no more flying

another poet for 'peace'
voice fading

all the children starving to death
their storytime ended.
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