A history of mankind at its worst
was the lost of the
idolic salvation we had when we were children.
A dream not yet dead but on life----
Supported by a people
who know not what the injury is
but know that somewhere it hurts inside.
Asking mothers and fathers
"Why can't you fix me?"
Young girls with skirts torn and
Bodies broken
as strange hands and stranger intentions
reach hungry for their legs and life silently scream
"Mother Fucker don't you Touch ME!"
But find that no voice can be heard from the streets...
Cause everyone locked their doors and shut their windows and closed their blinds
to the disbelief that is just beyond their beds.
Beds that were bought with the blood money
of three hundred years worth
of dreams left to die at the hands of sons who didn't know
the magic of their forefathers
and what they were doing until the compromise
of their lives hung by the lightest
of promises that held secrets of destruction----
and daughters who
gave birth to evolutions and revolutions
that were nations at a zenith
not yet envisioned.
What do you do when the cities and blocks hold the secret to
the memories forgot and dreams unspoken????
Just listen baby....
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