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A Prison Filled With Smoke

 I drew with a pencil that broke in the middle I drew with the shorter half that choked on the riddle I knew it was going to be harder to hide my fiddle I drew on top of a scar that had been ripped open too far I drew the stitches to cover the leakage in rage I made the lead to break I drew dark glasses to hide my eyes from lies that cover my face I drew empty classes where I teach freedom I knew no one would come and take the risk that it encompasses I drew the bucket  that has holes everywhere I drew the station that never sees a train only the pain of everything passing right through the empty tracks I drew a relation that is always in tension what should I say how should I pay what should I do not to stay I drew a blanket to cover my soul I drew a bullet to destroy the ghoul I knew someone will call me out I knew someone will shout I drew a chair where I can sit and think about being fair I drew a floor filled with gravity of good time smoke gathered around me suddenly, I ...

Listen To

The little ones..
The quieter ones..
The lonely ones..
And the not so chirpy ones.
Listen..
When interrupted by atrocity..
When knocked out by flaw..
When trapped in the enactment..
Of disparity of law.
Listen..
While eyes talk..
And the winds walk up to you.
While silence whispers through.
Listen to the ask..
To that undefining task.
The laughter the merriment..
The cry after the embellishment.
Listen to the chatter..
Listen to the right chapter.
Listen to stories..
Paying heed to those faded glories.
To the intense grasp..
To the instant wrath..
To the never changing decision..
To the life saving incision.
For speaking louder can never calm the waves..
While listening echoes through the wildest of the caves.

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