Author: Pricilla Jordan
Stand there and judge me as if you can feel the petrified emotions of my soul
Hear my words, watch them cross straight through your ear drums,
The oppressors begging to be oppressed.
Watching the weak fight their way to the slightest bit of false freedom,
Standing there ripping their hearts from their chests,
crying, well I am oppressed.
My rough days are the price I pay to live in this world that feeds off of fear,
The a man made world being teared apart
The separation dividing the Pangaea to North Korea.
Freedom, the first lie told when you are brought to this earth,
You will always be replaceable, the first truth.
The ethereal being I feel,
The internal rage that I cannot release,
I am Royalty, regardless of my caste,
Let narcissism being the only thing standing in my way,
Let those who fail to understand, see me as nothing.
Let those who hear me,
See the importance of finding reality, spread the words I speak,
faster than the pandemic at its peak.
We are dying,
But if you are reading this you knew that,
A dying record playing the same song on loop.