Under Each Eye.

Americana Injustica

In a trial before the stars, I stand,
the flesh and bone of all that I am,
an avatar of the eternally damned,
the burglar of all that could’ve been;

Stains of saline have eroded each cheek,
like a child to whom crying comes naturally,
my sadness infuses any vowel I speak,
tattooed under each eye permanently;

Not one of the ancient stars in the sky,
can shine brightness again on my place,
none of them seem to recognize,
beyond the shadow of my face;

Not a single beast roaming the landscape,
can bear me a sense of honest security,
no salesman on Earth has a handshake,
that can strike renewed faith into me.

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