There are days where
my hunger eclipsed my
values,

And preached shadows to
the voided eye.

My mouth sometimes
move tornadoes that
form from my voice.

Callous to the touch
of fickle souls that crash
into the tragedy.

And as I continue to talk,

Their eyes began to close the door.

A simple greeting of signals,

and a slather of veins holding
the last bit of honey in a jar,

Can truly cause someone
to loathe for liberation.

I am still in shackles.

My mind is still a virgin to the world.

That's why I undress my scars,
and hang up my tears.

So that my eyes can see
the mirror that presents me.

"Where is the sun, if the hurricanes screech over its voice?"

-CMCrain

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