I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.
When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.
‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.
To allow the city sun to shine upon the wounds we allowed others to inflict
Vitamin D for our tough-skinned inner-child
The parentified children we were
Heal with me, I shrieked to deafened ears
Heal for me
And, Goddamn it, lift your voice
Shriek to me from out of the grey
It has been six years and six months to the day
Set aside your pen
Unpoison your wellspring
Harmonize with me
End the endless justification of silence
Of the dark
Lived lives trump safe lives
Remember?
It’s simply will not Nor shall the sun go down on your calamity Unending prayers sent up If you wonder when it will stop To say goodbye
No pen or parchment paper
You, wayward highwayman of mine
Were my hands not
I tried
Our finest hour
The wind will not rest
LisaRosier.com 