My tears flowed.
As if the stones had struck every one of them,
They were tearful themselves.
Dark with coal mines and invisible cradles
I’m not enlightening.
I am not black.
here stands the misunderstanding of all His glory.
Newspaper; a decade’s worth of spandex.
Darkness circulates through the air
As a free agent in chaos.
I skip home above the ravine,
Watching the spectators struggle in the gorge.