we are but
the rage of our ancestors
bottled up in skin and bone
decorated and placed into this world—
and they thought we would stay docile
we are but
the beauty of queens and kings
immortalized forever in paintings
they stripped this beauty away—
and thought we would settle for ugliness
we are but
the power of an emperor
his dominance wafting over his kingdom
they robbed us of our birthright—
and thought we would never fight back
so come now
brother and sisters
pick up your sword
pick up your stick
let us fight for our birthright
and all of the glory
that should have been ours
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pluto | poetry ✓
Poetrythe space station hums with the early morning traffic, the wafting of coffee and fresh croissants filling the air. for the first time, you are not behind your desk, hitting your shins on the weirdly placed piece of metal, but strapping yourself insi...
