Stand Tall.

Americana Injustica

Remember when you were small,

a future that made no sense at all,

hovered over your head all the time,

covered the dread too vague to define;

then the puzzles to Life seemed to multiply,

came the fizzle of fight in the blink of an eye,

lovers come and go without any preference,

scraps for the Scrapbook without significance,

days stack higher in a pile with Father Time,

nights drag heavily through the oceans cried,

Remember the day that you began to see,

how the world functions in all actuality,

remember cutting your lip on the brim,

and it dripped as you sipped at a future so grim;

these moments afforded no gracious subtly,

that slap in the face somehow still stings me,

the universe has its own separate itinerary,

and cares little for you and even less for me.

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Skin.

Americana Injustica

Today will not end sadly again,

I seem to have grown a new layer of skin,

woven thicker and stronger,

with a shelf-life that’s longer,

and a few newly formed opinions;

This world will continue to spin,

people still consider themselves as Human,

the truth shines much brighter,

from the wounds of a fighter,

when nobody’s tending to them.

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Synthetic.

Plastic promises of compromise,

Empty books of invisible lies,

A world of distance in between,

What the fading words really mean,

The synthetic smell of a fake Christmas tree,

The prophetic spell of the Future Me…

Plastic knives dig just as deep,

Into backs turned away too trustingly,

A synthesis that cuts to my human core,

A part of my head doesn’t work anymore,

This pathetic reminder of living too comfortably ,

The blue has gone cold without green.

Lowly.

Americana Injustica

I opened my eyes with the thought in my mind,

the futility of running this routine another time,

the cruelty attached to waking hours in sunshine,

the frailty that’s latched itself inside my eyes,

tells a tale to me against my own will,

spills the history flooded between me and Hell,

bites the fingertip feeding me strips of roast beef,

hangs me by my thumbs from a weeping willow tree,

steals away my everything,

down to every teeny piece,

I can’t even find the smile in my sleep,

it’s been stolen from me.

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