The lines are bleeding with sacrifice

Having been wound and pulled straight

Bound to make sense of the confusion

Words have a hazardous mission

Saddled with the burden of identity

That would not give up in silence

Sprang out in warning and defense

Spelling the sound of us, alive, in art

How to run together, with pointed sticks

in order to form a more perfect union

When we could only read a painted cave

And humanity was a wilderness child

We are not more civilized on paper

Where we do not draw an X on War

In news covering us beneath a bridge

Where we hide, asleep and homeless

Where there are better pictures

Blessed is our enlightenment

Rock, paper, scissors 

Love, arrows, and stonesImageImage









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