The Turn of Life

The Turn of Life By: Tammy R. Flanagan Voices uncarried, as the truth could never be announced Secrets in tight metal boxes And pain meticulously tucked away Covered in bandages of fake smiles and laughter’s Your mind repeats like a broken record…“Everyone deserves forgiveness” For just the phone call, the day or hour you mask the ugly face To be able to breathe through the charades “You are not made like them” Keeps twisting and turning, braiding my conscience as a quiet reminder Flesh from flesh does not exist Visions of selfishness, abomination and torture will never cross over The legacy will not carry on I will paint a new creation of life That claims true faith and servanthood Not a holier than-though-art Sunday morning pew warmer Existing in a dressed-up cloak of deception and lies Living like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hide The record has broken, your turn table cries no more The stage is bare No more acts will follow, no applause will be heard For the venom that runs through Destroyed your flesh and soul What you give always came back What you took will eventually be taken away