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
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