We Should Be Free

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It’s not about you,

It’s not about me,

It’s not about who you think I should be.

Because it’s about you

And it’s about me,

It’s all about how we should be free.

 

Because it’s about her

And it’s about him,

It’s about being happy with the color you’re living in.

It’s not about hate,

It’s not about sin,

It’s about being able to love the one you’re with.

 

And it’s about standing

Up for what’s right,

Raising your voice to join in the fight

To be who you are

To see past judgmental eyes

And love the broken and bruised and comfort their cries.

 

Because it’s about me

And it’s about them,

The children ripped away in Bethlehem.

And it’s about you

And it’s about walls,

What will you do when the angel calls?

 

Because it’s about you

And it’s about me,

It’s about all of us and who we’re meant to be.

Because it’s about hope

And learning to hear

The rhythm between the beats and the voices shouting: “We’re here!”

 

For we will not be quiet,

We will not be kept down.

We are rising up, and we are standing our ground.

For we are not afraid,

We are all one family,

And this is how it’s meant to be…

We are free!

 

*inspired by Zac Efron in The Greatest Showman interview & current events (LGBTQ+, racism, children taken away from parents at the borders and lost-read as sold into child sex trafficking, and anyone who dares to challenge society’s “norms”)

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Judgment Day

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Run.

White wraiths across the rocky ground

Like foxes to their burrows.

Run from death’s heralds as they watch

From hidden places

Behind barren trees,

Appear up from the soil,

Black clad figures, ragged robes abrading the ground,

They follow

With skeletal hands outstretched

To snatch life away,

Unforgiving predators chasing pale, flightless birds.

 

Run.

Chase the pill with the bottle,

The needle into the vein.

Fly the high to heaven’s gate

Till hell brings you back again.

From hidden places,

Behind dumpsters and cardboard boxes,

Appear ghosts from fevered dreams.

No life everlasting,

Mortal flesh decaying,

We lay on marble thrones,

As the wind whines through our bones.

 

*this is what happens when you begin writing a zombie story while listening to Sia’s Loved Me Back to Life.

Where the Scars Don’t Show

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Red screams fill my blue skies,

Anguish overflows these tortured eyes.

In my world of truth

There’s a river of hurt left by you.

 

Cut me, and I bleed down to the bone,

Stitched-up heart with broken-glass hope.

Leave me here upon that desolate shore,

To live, to love, nevermore.

 

Let the ravens come now and pick me dry,

No more living in a world built on your lies.

Beyond love’s desire-colored veil,

Beyond your reach, there I will dwell.

 

*I always say that words have power…and some words are meant to cut deep. I’ve found that, once the invisible “blood” has dried, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness, a numbness that descends upon you. Whether it’s a respite for healing or simply limbo until the next verbal offense comes, I don’t yet know. But that’s where you can find me tonight.