Right the message through out the halls,
Scream it at the top of your lungs.
Through the echo we hear the call,
And because of our braveness it overcomes.
I don't wanna believe the message,
But it seeps through and thickens my blood.
Like heavy baggage,
It pulls me with the flood.
But while I'm gone,
Keep spreading the words,
Keep singing the same song,
Until they're all cured.
The sentences colder than hypothermia,
That infects worse than septicemia.
Categories:
septicemia, freedom,
Form: Sonnet