call out the last one to hate on shay try a billion squabblers to trust may.
Months reel by barking hay giving shouts and screams to feel for fame
intuitively troubled depending upon schemes rhythmic dottings determine
hankering shallow men pressing on me galloping my rights away.
Enslaved in surreal shadows of a place unknown as they swallow my life
transferring my noise into energy and pain unbearable to legs shattering in weakness.
Do they know what they are doing to the youth?
Does the contemporary society feel any worth?
Can our voices work?
Important delays take shaking fears elaborating them to many ears. I wish I could not hear
my sisters depression of so many false claims determine their weight.
Nights haunt the bodies that move so slow even though one would think
our numbers could bless a heaven in gold. We thought work was
finished and I scrabbled to come ashore yet no relief was belayed
and sharks poured into our shame.
Television was my perfect vision, but it was stolen by so many other eyes.
The images all portrayed us being splayed.
Commercials pictured us being paid.