Drips echo across the white marble sink,
Slithering down the wound across the wrist,
Slowly colouring the pristine water, pink;
Water once virtuous, now, murky with sins, illicit.
Destined to go down the path trodden by many before,
The route of many who’ve fallen from heaven,
The ones who’ve been crushed for aiming too high and way too far,
The ones exiled and will remain never forgiven.
Herded like sheep, no toe out of line;
Contradictions, labelled as crime.
What use is free will if we can’t use it?
The point of a sixth sense, if it’s in a forbidden closet?
Who determines what is right and wrong?
Who decides our fate if we refuse to go along?
Ridden with guilt, ashamed of not fitting in;
Irony is rich when we punish ourselves therein.
Judgement day arrives, not in front of them,
But in front of the mirror,
As the tears run dry,
And we look ourselves in the eye,
Clouded with disgrace, not pride.
Our fates, we decide,
Whether to live or to die.
Whether in cowardice or martyrdom,
Seldom has a life been spared,
From the cruelty we’ve created,
From the torture of this reality we share.
The power is not in their hands but in our minds,
In our ability to turn our eyes blind,
To the ignorance and hate
And focus on ways to regenerate.
It’s up to us to show them up.
Show them, in our differences, we unite.
As we bind together in love,
Using words unspoken, a tie unbroken,
And in that love, we arise.
From the ashes of the demised,
To a future of joy and hope,
Where we can cherish and cope.
To a future where there is no space,
For prejudice and degradation,
Neither hate nor discrimination.
A future where our differences are cherished and our individuality praised.
Where creativity is well nourished, and is a safe haven for the children we raise.
A future where no soul
Feels lost and alone,
Where we can console those,
Who’ve fallen down,
Where early signs raise alarm
And no one resorts to self-harm.
A future to fight and strive for,
One well worth this struggle to survive,
Where no one needs to wield a knife,
To take their own damn precious life.
© Copyright 2017 Devyne Prince. All rights reserved.
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