i travel an empty road night driving away from you your tears still fresh in my eyes last meeting my choice inside something just didn’t feel right you’re perfect in everyone’s eyes but mine my words weren’t heard by you hurt deafens finally just walked away nothing left to say nothing to hear but the silence of an empty road
these are not my emotions this anger and fear is older than my years upon this earth it is the taste of dried blood and the dust of those once enslaved freed by death to wander with whatever winds reach into soul to reanimate their words so their sorrow and stories can be retold these are not my words so expect no apologies or absolution of social sins the dead cannot make such offerings to the living they can only recall the sins you’ve lived and the pain you’ve bestowed
these are inherited tears part of our estate for over two hundred years of enslavement oh it’s not that there weren’t other items business accounts land and such but those were appropriated along with personal dignity in order to justify a false sense of superiority of primitive people who left to their own devices were unable to survive in a truly competitive world so were given what was ours so we were left with inherited tears and rage
sounds of night traffic pulsing along urban roads have replaced warm laughter over dinner debates debates on everything but not on what defines friendship that was known and required no amendments to what constituted why we loved one another but now an emptiness a fading out into the arid landscape of time where a grave stands unattended for all those who cared are gone so this grave bearing my name will be drought-stricken no tears from those i loved
among the dead a child someone’s mother as well as loving fathers oh and grandparents too many to mention by name but you know them they were your friends neighbors and colleagues they perished well were politically sacrificed for fascist ideology and delusions of grandeur delusions unrestrained by those desiring political supremacy supremacy over duty to nation sworn duty but it seems a person’s pledge is not nearly as important as their purse
in that light death’s seen clearly choices in life replayed painful scenes lost childhood dreams now slowly reappear tears fill eyes breaths grow short
