Protest

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Clutched, I find our picket signs are
Painted hearts on wicked minds
Graffiti love–this sleepless town
A neon drug with wired sounds
The weak, the few, the scattered are
The warriors of tomorrow’s coup
Indifference: the enemy
The power: us. The weapon: you.
The cause is what we make of it
With future eyes’ unsilenced gaze
Across the codes we write of love
Across the viruses of hate
We pen a history to come
A melody as yet unsung
And cast our vote beneath the sheets
Of being free–of being we

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Buried Alive

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Trapped inside
Buried alive
Clawing the walls
That hold them below
Cries unheard
Muffled by earth

Cast aside
Sealed up to die
Living emotions
Words left unspoken
Fighting to breathe
Deep within me

Shut and nailed
Packed and sealed
Covered with reasons
Left out to freeze
Dropped in a coffin
To rot and to soften

I can hear them scream
Piercing the ground beneath my dreams
Dragging their nails across my belly
Writing the things they cannot tell me

I can feel them pound
Shaking the thoughts I can’t let out
Trying to break their borrowed tomb
Awaiting their turn to be exhumed