Bedlam

 

Afraid of a white suit and plastic hands

We succumb to the thoughts of midnight

Internal, we burn deep and scarred

We cover them up by the amber morning

Not understanding the source of these words

We misunderstand ourselves instead

Moral and reason are abandoned with hesitation

Or clasped hands with an ask for forgiveness

We tell the air, thick or thin

Apologize for what’s within

Rather than hiding seeds beneath soil

Refuse to let them flourish

Instead breed them, find their mother

And truthfully turn her away
Kindly take her wrinkled palm

And trust her word when she is gone

She may come back to lay her child

Within her heavy arms is a burden

To both

Turn her away until she hardly

Bothers to return

 

 

 

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