[Cereal]

colour blind
..

if I was to tell you,
even if it was softly my life..
the depth is of much dirt your eye's would welter just like
a flower on fire in your iris's so vibrant
the in's and out's of lies so criminal they fight for silence
when you look up, the incline denies kneeling for marriage
each line literally savage contorted in virgin damaged
whites so pearl the ivory of shade shivers by the lipstick
and thats where it starts..
one kiss at a time found twisted..

Dear Romeo,
graffitied in a mural of true love lost
Maybe you will notice or maybe you will miss by the cost
I rode bare horseback, saddled with my pure flesh bitter
My sister in love with you,.. as I stutter the brush of litter
scratching out the message..... no person needs to read thoughts
of a falling girl too short to be sure of her words worth...
I,i..i until next time

Dear Juliet,
protested symbols far from art I drape
the sky is the limit of the lesser blood line I rape
by directing a step towards you in what feelings are
my family shunned the sun shine that exposed all that is fare
My, mine these messages as broken as its initial I still sign
looked at by busted ears so bonkers its witch craft to some/shy
I can't lie, I can't sleep - you are running in my mind
the reach of what I brush, brazen beyond your final cries
..I hope you read..
before it dies, by meek rised inside sight..
tragic/.. the static that frays from the bristles tight unwind
our baby born in purgatory.. perched in a parch
soo dry - hells path of foreign tongues selling as disguised larks..
Lapping around what I swipe, I think I missed your last sigh...
nnn..oooo I am out of time

....
..

Dear Whom who turned our world into rubbish,
..
There will be
no saving your soul's, no hole deep enough for decree
no degree of shame to rebutal the public minds you tainted
with your private painting, ignoring the children answered
to you, to you two..
like gods in an ungoverned tale of two
Proud of your negligence of our rights through and through
When we are your neighbours, your saviours and knew of news..
this is garbage of what a story is..
thus yours ends here true..
nothing.. we splash by the bucket on the prints ignorant of the mass
No remember or notice - you poetic lover trash..

we have spoken "THE PEOPLE"

....a child...
just one child (crawls then walks)
..through the story nevermore

searching - for its parents born from love - true love sure
and it flies..

and no one believes - so it dies..
writen in blood/paint coloured reality then dried

one foot print remains dragging the life that could have been
it reads..

(this is your space to fill in the blank)