The Awaited Breath Grace Ye It has already been long enough
She couldn't remember the last time ... with sniffled senses a step was taken out the padded front door Timid attire latched layers of protective garments over any which openings Time would tell when the distances could close ....for now, the clarity of the open air spread a calmness in her unsettled heart
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Trust In Us Grace Ye three little branches hung onto me
like a free fiddle I sang onto the sea. My last hug was ages ago and it seems like just yesterday since ‘merica stirred. she smelt the safety of the fog One of her fellow creatures of the dark. Our patience gave out, mind the quiet — the air on our tongue Sparked with resistance Hard steel toed boots stomped against the pavement Lines and lines of armed forces encroached our peace The tears had barely dried before it Started again Bullets of rubber, bombs of tears, silent lips against cries for justice Echoed the masses Bet. Grace Ye Your upper hand beats their lower hands to roll the die
Crooked men lounge on red playing cards Their cancerous smoke hushes out the children Big hands rolls six sick sixes on the dice I hope I’ve got some sisters who out last me They gonna tell our story Little men in big suits were on the telly Static white n’ black threads his white lies so clearly Problematic white noise hushs our issues Everything’s still more than just scenes on T.V. Stills hang on a black screened shutdowned T.V. Feminist af Grace Ye She’s feeling
like stirring the ceiling We’re gonna clear up this anxiety Tell me, when our world’s falling Will she be your gravity? Feeling as right as raindrops Riding on top of this mentality Breaking the glass ceiling with her bomb stiletto class. Addiction rings Grace Ye Art by Lea Shvarts a sooted finger graces lucid waters, a foot too quick plunges past haters Three quick gasps and thus He goes fast right under Silent screams rippled through landlines slicker and sweeter, as if collected with mystic morphine and hypnotic heroin So soon an overdose rings home Her Matters Grace Ye Yesterday, she recalls her eyes gazing out the classroom Towards the vast land of lights and mass of people Afloat, going here and there, she stands atop the roof Spinning doubt, still figuring it out
Falling on O’ weary A train travels Nodding off hums to a sea of mumble jumbles. She still peak at the pains and blemished face afraid Gazing into a selfie screen behind curtains of hair and cease Mocking those daily fought wars within dark under eye crescents I pray she’ll blossom into childish laughter set in mighty skies For that was all there really was; wonder. Be far Gone low some thoughts. To her young everythings. Wonderful, if each of their owns matter. Patches of gentle light spilled on waves to pointless chatter. |
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