adults of the night
Bombarded with grenades and bullets
Projectile dooms
Children of the night
Dreams of freedom
But never leave the womb
Destruction always looms.
People of the light
Only some will star the night:
And here I stand
Birthed from poverty
Life’s my affinity
Death’s my humility.
How must my spine align to sprout wings
When the world laments words and sings
But my mind has corridors of metaphors
I don’t know what I’m living for
But my purpose is to make my soul rhyme
With my mind
Over matter
That’s a matter of fact
And fact ruins fiction
But my mind is imaginative
So perhaps possible fiction.
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