That awesome red sticky stuff running through our veins.
The juice of everything we be doesn’t even know our names.
Yes, the goop tells us women or man but it might take our noodle a while to understand. So concerning is the issue too many accept and commit to separate because of shade, a belief, or how much bacon is kept and spent.
When the ink in our body’s highways is near all the same can’t we all find a way to walk hand in hand.
True we work and deserve to reap.
But how much do we need to pile up on the heap?
I’m entitled to nothing but death and so are you so please don’t scoff because we don’t wear the same status shoes.
Might be a day to come when all are seen good enough to be who they be without a government pretending to grant rights in a tangled sea.
Current thoughts of freedom wrapped up in farce. Fake laws of bondage equal us as chattel telling us we’re free but this idea must be parsed.
Like sheep, we walk in comas of never-ending rules and licenses to justify who we be yet the bandage must rip off so hearts can learn and see.
