And yet, though the leaf was raised and named by the tree
It had to experience a different life
Show others the changing colors
Curious children pondering its veins
Just because it had left its tree
It still held the blood and value
Fingerprints lingering
Denying any bouts of forgiveness
I play the field running base to base
Always searching for home
Base of my soul
Maybe
Hardly
Distinctively vulnerable to the crowd
Awaiting my turn for a standing applause
Yet shunning the epidemics of cliché's
With roots being violently ripped from the earth
Exposing the old and caked dirt
Hoping the truck broke down
On that distant and foreign world
That seems so unforgiving
While contradicting its faults
The fingers like Pinocchio’s nose
Should be so long from history of judgment
Leaving them too blind to read brail
Foolishly defending what lack even pity
So quick to catch my upward thumb
Looking for my ride
But assuming you like my adventure
Only to use the map for a laugh
My gold you saw rust
Cursing my mothers creative and delicate womb
Denying the basis of life
When all the while improvising your
Cold fantasies and fabricated purity
Pondering whether this tactic of yours
Is apparent and premeditated
Or have the negative rivers jaded your discretion
Creating a dementia of what I hold true
Even beginning to strap up for war
Against myself
My cheerleader you strut
With every step
Chipping one more piece of the first paint
Manipulating my taste in hues
Watering my eco system with the pallets
Of your self induced altruism
Judging the judgers
Playing double-dutch as a triple
Your youth must have hurt
And maybe so
How children shouldn't follow this lead
Self reflection never reaching your pond
Lucky for you there are many bundles
Discreetly distracting them all
Mistaking your pond for a lake
Holding onto every last syllable of your
Far fetched euphemisms
But if big pictures could profit
Your lack of the genuine virtue
Would imply that the books still
Judged by their cover
Thank god you are a great picture
Cause there is no water in your well
Political confusion running
Off only fumes of debauchery I rub my eyes
The fog refuses
Harder, I try only left with a dry thirst
Time and time again
We all agree
Yet my words no longer hold interest
Adjusting the volume they run further
On the floor where
Many knees knelt
Bending judgment begging forgiveness
Will we be able to escape the chaos?
Trapped in the question
Telepathy for the weather
How the red smoke does linger?
Staining the walls
Scrubbing away the pain
The stains seem unwilling
Senseless is the term budging
Is this the reality universally?
Or could it be that only my universe
Is capable of harboring this Ship?
Haunted.
Waiting to be discovered by their divers
Scared it may be too far for them to attain
Their capacity of oxygen can't reach my depths
Not a single survived to wrath of my wreck
History books void of the truth
Pleading for its team of subjective journalists
A doubt for their benefit
Comply I cannot
Empathy is not
An option
Carrying their weight on my shoulders I secretly pray their diet
Reincarnation
