The Report (poem)

Masking violence as an art, is a mass agenda.
We pour the sins of generations in and I refuse to swallow.
Rape of the sacred, cuts me deep.
The emptiness of eternity I surrender to.
It passes through, It passes through.

Wind placed lips, like flesh to the bone.
Haunting is the melody played upon them.
Like a prayer stirring darkness, I shake, I shake.

I feel quite silly stumbling over embarrassment,
it's corpse laid at my feet.
Lost in "numbness" as an identity.
It embraces my body like the coldness of death.
Fear is cold, a companion of my shadow's delusion.

Wind placed lips, like flesh to the bone.
Haunting is the melody played upon them.
Like a prayer stirring darkness, I shake, I shake.

Poisoned is my mind by Priests in white collars.
Shame is a recipe to control my soul.
The Masonic Money may starve a "fool's" suffering.
But my hunger for freedom still lingers.

Wind placed lips, like flesh to the bone.
Haunting is the melody played upon them.
Like a prayer stirring darkness, I shake, I shake.

Quick is the knife of truth that pierces my blindness.
Cracked now is my mind full of lies.
The wisdom of youth becomes so clear.
How easy it would be to dismiss the obvious.
But there is no fooling the mirror.

Wind placed lips, like flesh to the bone.
Haunting is the melody played upon them.
Like a prayer stirring darkness, I shake, I shake.