Sand
How the wind is howling grit into the eye
and the storm vents its commiserating
to burden the worrisome sky
back forced into the bleach bit
to hang by grasping throat
and scurry to those rat holes
where safety feels safe enough
Suffocate from the ever shadow of the fear
perpetual incarceration
in every freedoms voice you long to hear
Choke on the truth that’s never really there
Stand by the principles written there in chalk
the blackboards of education
which never taught enough
lay there in silence
through the darkness of the night
and wonder why you feel so
empty of not enough
Hold your breath
drowning is just the same
it’s freedoms voice inside you that doesn’t have a name
The desert is a wastelands voice of a billion grains of sand
What can you choose between just one single choice
between love or hate it seems the same
just the dirty boots shoveled in the dirt
bury conscience into a television screen
and ask yourself where the vendetta walks
with yourself or someone else
somewhere else where safety is feeling safe enough
Shame is closed to the music of the truth
never paid attention or listened close enough
a photograph of freedom will please slavery well enough
Hold your breath
drowning is just the same
it’s freedoms voice inside you that doesn’t have a name
The desert is a wastelands voice of a billion grains of sand
Copyright © Colin Mitchell Williams | Year Posted 2017
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