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Merchandise



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Merchandise

True Monument

I gave up looking for easy answers
Contemplating words that left such scars
Composed with the cruelty of kindness
Her arms outstretched with lips ajar

I'd have her arrested
But she has no hands and I can't trust my Western eyes

At night she wanders about the jail cell
Her refusal's all too much to bear
The brilliance and light are left intangible
Language is lost now I just stare and stare and stare and stare

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She's someone that can't be colored
With paint nor privilege nor another's blood

By way of protest and backwards passion
I sought to grab and then hold on
To what I thought was truth in the frigid grip of vanity
Where has it gone? Where has it gone? Where has it gone?

Now reckless flames
Engulf the frame of the one true monument