coming of age
Someone came to save me. I wonder the conditions in which I needed to be saved from. Tension felt so young, so wrong so young.
Watch people, and see their facial lines. Loud laughs make the sad lines visible. They say that comedy is a dark medium, and a bleeding heart never stops past the page. Sanitized walls lining my streets, these reflective windows remind me of my warden: "stay thin, look good, then you will be happy."
Fears of money, building a career, how can you afford an rrsp? In my streets, I know my nieghbours. In these streets, chains mark them. They tell me, city life has the status quo. Bittersweet distractors.
There is much to be assumed. The kitchen table conversations are private. Considering that, my ideology is empathy.
"An artist has no country."
To be in politics, to be engaged, to know how to vote and to demand the world to stop the pollution that sinks your country. This way, come, this way.
Environmental groccery bills help. The illusion does not stop there. Speaking out against discrimination comforts. The hate does not stop there. Literacy is improving. The censorship does not stop there. Continue this binary dialouge in your head.
Say what you are and expect to be held accountable. This disturbing picture, felt too long, makes the heart quench.
There is peace, standing in a still water and the horizon has sandy lines into no place. I watch the clouds and I know that I am up there.
Someone came to save me, and I wonder the conditions in which I needed to be saved from.
Watch people, and see their facial lines. Loud laughs make the sad lines visible. They say that comedy is a dark medium, and a bleeding heart never stops past the page. Sanitized walls lining my streets, these reflective windows remind me of my warden: "stay thin, look good, then you will be happy."
Fears of money, building a career, how can you afford an rrsp? In my streets, I know my nieghbours. In these streets, chains mark them. They tell me, city life has the status quo. Bittersweet distractors.
There is much to be assumed. The kitchen table conversations are private. Considering that, my ideology is empathy.
"An artist has no country."
To be in politics, to be engaged, to know how to vote and to demand the world to stop the pollution that sinks your country. This way, come, this way.
Environmental groccery bills help. The illusion does not stop there. Speaking out against discrimination comforts. The hate does not stop there. Literacy is improving. The censorship does not stop there. Continue this binary dialouge in your head.
Say what you are and expect to be held accountable. This disturbing picture, felt too long, makes the heart quench.
There is peace, standing in a still water and the horizon has sandy lines into no place. I watch the clouds and I know that I am up there.
Someone came to save me, and I wonder the conditions in which I needed to be saved from.