A canvas in its own right
But no paint or pastel is found
Nor crayons of many hues
Touch the flesh,
Hair as soft as the summer breeze
Minerva puts me at ease,
Yet when she cries the sunlight dies
Crystal clear limpid eyes, look astray
Empty spaces absent of
The heat from the street moves like souls seeking refuge,
So I keep on walking and one day I meet
A girl blowing bubbles out the window.
And I watch-
Brick by brick the barrier is built
Placed by painful memories past,
Adamantly meant to last.
Kept within our own life spheres
The cries for help meet deaf ears,
Drowning out this damning din
From figures of melting skin,
Where has our freedom gone?
It's controlled by those with power beyond.
Rich king and his calvary over paltry pawns
Obeying his will, marching toward Death