EPTMy family's one of the few who didn't die from small pox,
I didn't vote for father Joseph, I ain't even a Nez Pierce,
dead peers, the red years, Yeah, not every wound heals,
In South Dakota, we live in Palestine conditions,
separate but unequal, it is a discriminating division
The wounded knee, we will bury your heart using hatchets,
We ain't laughed yet, only last breaths, and bad deaths,
sadness is fact, yes, a mile in our shoes?
Nope. You ain't even walked a half step.
So have you,
grasped the badness, sapped from sadness, madness, that's it,
Who my dad is, is a fact about my pas-tense, not the present.
So beware of my proclivity,
because Revolution lives in me, like homeless people sleep on city streets.
GRH-RAWR
I found this in last months 'free writing' notebook and felt like sharing. Have a good day fellow tl'ers!
