And So The Story Goes..

When we are removed from history textbooks

Our mistakes will follow in repetition.

And as we cry egyptian shaped tears

Your towers will paint the sky with corporate lies

Wicked men in glass shoes carry dull suitcases

Failing to realized that their fake smiles have left us

Broken.

And no matter how deep the concrete goes,

No matter how high your building reach

And no matter how far your skyscrapers stretch

We are demanding more love.

I pity those men in fine armor

Chasing women with alabaster perfume

Enlaced on their wrists

Kissing dollar bills every time the clicking of heels step through their office

For these men do no understand the shame of card board boxes

Underneath underpasses draped in graffiti

Or the venomous veins carrying the weight of heroin through barren cities

They have forgotten the forgotten.

The minimum wage dependents

The less fortunate.

Your political scandals are raping us dry

Leaving no crack in between our attempts just to get by

How could you rewrite the words we've created?

You appear with red faces

Emptied from vacations

With sand still tucked behind your ear

Telling single mothers that they must leave

But you fail to answer the question of why

Your guns have not surrounded the poverty of unfortunate dreams.

Why are your wallets heavier than our education?

Your laws are corrupted sir, and you alone have deleted us from those history books.

Where did the three kings with the gifts go?

Where are the songs about strange fruit?

Where did the speeches about peace disappear to?

The pollution rises through the windows

Of your pent house

You cough on our deep breaths

You rest on our fallen hopes

You twist broken promises into strands of our hair

You avoid our eyes to remain innocent

You shake our hands unaware that the lifelines on our palms

Are not long enough and it is unfair

That these men are stripping away our sanity

They are stealing our identities

We are not your enemies

We are simply the unread words in your fairy tale fantasies

Though you pull our rehearsed sorry's from your pockets

We know that the truth is far from your mouth.

We must re-build the temple

And only hope that one brick can fix

Everything you've undone

And pray that our names are rewritten.

Love, Tianamonique.