The sound of every bullet of the world is one.
The smell of gunpowder is the same.
The length of each scream is equal.
The eyes of every hyena are red.
The language of every fundamentalist and dictator is the torture.

Every oppressed's land is
Yemen, Kashmir, Palestine or Syria.

Thereafter praiser of the Veds,
Talmud, Bibles and the Quran
Describe the inner importance of your own.

Keep in mind that the oppressed has no God.

Breaking molds begging to be kept solid
Pushes my person to throw temper tantrums
High and mighty with not a lick of forgiveness
Weak in the mind on a Wednesday
Drunk in a funk on a Friday
Horizons that I thought were mine
Were never mine to begin with
They are the oceans beneath my feet
Chipping white dust of bones that bleed hallow marrow
A black sky is the only way a bird can learn how to fly
In a mystery a man dies, my father, your father, no bother
For emotion used to hit ******* my clear glass window
Now I know longer see the point in the matter
The demons are deep but not as deep as the absence of me
I am lost in the high frothiness of societies **** and its labels
Away I will not go but here I will stay
Don't ask me demeaningly to praise this and applaud that
They are, in shadows, apart of something
The praiser hates, a secret shining soon to be dead agate
Fortune fancies the one's that know how to show it off
A monster lays inside jewels, in gold, in seemingly high ego
Devil ten horns has learned how to live and be reborn
A mastery of tricks, apparitions and magic
That not even the human eye or mind is able to see
Currents spell themselves out in shrouded clouds
Misty mist
Magic that is black, blue, green, yellow and red
The color of your mother's magic ink pens
A click of water from the outside gutter
The faint dying voice of a once thought of angelic grandmother
Take the shadow away from life, shine light
For there's never enough time
I'll be making meals
As I squeal
Pinching pennies, passing time, pouring wine

Don't get ahead of me and write your story!

Don't go another chapter.
Thinking the mood will capture.
I'm in time standing still..
With every bit of my own appeal.
In my simple time filled maze.
My own lust craze.
A variety lost in chapter three.
You wont see my feet moving, cuz sum different I see.
Listen you stay writing mental notes
And making quotes.
Of repetitions lil mentions.
Yet I've been writing undisturbed proverbs.
While entertaining fluffy clouds in hidden suburbs.
Speaking unplainly @You
How can you
Understand me to get to
chapter 2.
And see me in chapter 3.
Tell meh you feeling Me.
Selfish..walking talking with a unheard woman.
Right now I'ma be selfish cuz there's not lots in common.
But Im avoiding confusion..
I'm made of words and proverbs emotions and quotations.
And vocals that speak of revelations.
A Queendom nation.
Bell of a heightened Resurrection.
Do I move you to deeper configuration.
Or to liquid confusion.
As a harp I'm played..
My cords play stayed.
Yet to instructions I move, frequently  gently.
Not many clearly see the harmony that guides me.
I am writer. Server..Praiser..Uplifter..Encourager.
Made to stir, seek, employ, create and confer.
A waiter..a humble soul..Qualifier..flower.
@I'm simply__H.E.R. writer.