The rankling of shackles should be reminder enough
The torrid fury of words aiming to hurt
And not in deception, those without worry, pockets well-stuffed,
Drop a penny in and pull out a dime, with a short nod so curt,

I think what he, and very well she for all this is about,
Were never born from the Devil's womb,
They did not burst from god's skull, with a mind full of wisdom grout,
When squeezed, they did not scream answers in reply to fears loom

They, like me, stood so still and in wonder, in curiosity,
Asking these questions and feeling so smart,
It's for those that we worry, when those in animosity,
Answers these questions, for a child so curious, Switching their heart,
Leaving their angry imprint, a seed to grow right there,
Ready to sprout in freedom, irony so fresh, to make many more,

But what about me, just as young, more so even, and bare?
I'm crowded under their leaves, and I'm only told their lore,
"The Scorpion and the Frog, always so true."
It's in their nature I'm told.
Sipping coffee of the darkest brew,
I sit here away thinking on them and of what I'm told
It's not of the when, it will happen,
and it's not of the how, it can be done
Once the pebble drops, like the constant tapping,
The ripples tremble, a weight of a ton,

And the movement begins.
It won't be in blame.
It will be in hushes and shouts in winds
Or of that portrait, reminders still, someone who started, smiles in frame.