Revelry
Not everything I write has a story. Some things are created where they were naked as the night,
Anything can form white & ordinary, but something has to be shaded to be jaded out in the light.
The revelry without a thought is matched by enemies that claw & scratch at these walls of glass.
They tore my straw mask off & poured scorched water on my morbid past within hauded scraps.
The sordid drafts of wars, whores, & laughs, the glory, the sore, all the pure & awry gory facts.
I fought back but I was caught in the draught; I was ordered to laugh, & I was taught how to act.
I was crawling & talking back. It was more than being born into those hands that were cracked,
The hands I'd slapped. I was almost being re-spawned onto the man who demanded you react,
He who handed you the strap & offered you his back, only for the strap to turn to crap & wither,
for as you cracked & began to attack with vigour, he clapped at his new black, his new nigger,
& he turned, & laughed the laugh of a clasped trigger. Shuffling, mumbling nothing but a snigger.
As you're stumbling & rumbling, he's humbling, spluttering, coughing not stopping & gets bigger.
He stands out on our chest, & we hand out each breath, he's strong & he's long & he is death.
You're offering nothing, I have stopped coughing, & we're cold. You're but a coffin for my soul.
Old, & you can still taste this racists boot laces as he wastes away on the dust of your grave.
So what are you? You're a man, you're a hand, you're a stand, you're land, you're just a slave.
You gave all you gave & bravely paved a way in the end, & saved all those nameless children,
Those who were fumbling just for an end & got a number. Those just given a waste-less zero,
Now within revelry, your legacy wont die, my friend, my brother, & just another face-less hero.
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Originally Posted by KID L
