Like the static of oppression read as apathy ,
erupting into an unyielding entropy
in the natural scheme which the unnatural deem-
skin marking its own territory: a travesty.
Like the alleys, oil spills, and parts of town in uproar,
bribed into villainy, forks and hoes from hay and soil.
Golden promises hit scarlet: the blind and the sick.
Their graveyards remain sacred – they’re not what we need foil.
The gravely inverted had been blinded by a lie.
One so massive that this town’s like a speck without dye.
Storms have licked the town hall and droughts have dried their old farms.
But this black sheep is now void of that lie colored white.