The Synthesis of Silence and Glorified Stories

I stand on land that was threatened and shared.

I stand on grass that grows taller than my knees.

I stand on porous concrete, saturated

with memories from footprints of those who

walked, fell, danced, ran, begged, cried, and wondered why

their lives continued to linger without

a purpose of which they could comprehend.


Hurt and tortured, terrifically betrayed,

all the scars are still fresh on their faces.

These stories are covered up with foundation,

a simple reminder to have temptation,

because punishment promises to be

unpromised, and silence is secured

with a contract, --- sealed with a fingerprint

stamped on, with a crimson red hue that dries

too slowly, and is too ashamed to drip

and stain the perfectly painted picture that

portrays synthetic-peace, it hung atop.

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when i call upon the mischief that undulated beneath this undying land, under air sheathed with a foul taste of the flosses of flying, cotton-candy stained with tar, saturated with disappointment and