So I’ve touched the sky and lit the clouds on fire, protesting the anguish that fills the very fabric of my skin.
And the war cries of this battle harmonious with the howling winds do not reach the hearts of the weak to strengthen their souls, but instead deafens their morality.
They forget that with wrongful action comes a consequence greater than the scars on my back, and the heavier than the weight on my shoulders; they forget that in most of their silence the ringing of righteous bells will echo in their beds and put them to their feet-
Maybe one day, be it from me or from them, we’ll see error in our ways and try to paint serenity in our history instead of hate.
But seeing the blackness in their eyes and menacing gestures, serenity may be more a dream behind the burning sky than a reality attainable.