My soul grows weary in times like these;
turmoil tornadoes through cities,
debris piles up in hearts,
where hope dodges the bullets.
These heartless assassins seek control
through depression,
economic and of liberty.
Chokeholds, they reaching for our souls.
How foolish these demons are to believe
they are anything but human;
linked in
and if we go down they too will be sinking.
Can’t cut these umbilical ropes;
the ties that bind,
like yo-yo string; they fling themselves out
only to
rewind back to center again.
It’s simple Orwellian processes;
a cycle that the masses always
win.
The pig’s fall prey to self assassin,
cutting off the blood flow of their power;
the respect of
the people.
So my soul grows weary and these teary eyes
can’t count the blood stains;
they all smeared into a massive Red Sea,
salted by our sweat and screams.
My soul is heavy
cause these young ones facing this upon entry here
but I”m lifted
knowing the victory
has always been ours
since the Earth was begun.
It is but hours
til their reign be done.
