I erased my day unto myself;
An open stain of continuity.
I reversed these slain depicted breaths,
Out for no fairer community.
I am broken with the pictures of
Children who go running,
And now, I’m sitting back
Can’t cry, no.
Tears are through my blood, humming.

No carrying no tools
You carry knowing better.
And with it, a hammer
When the boards are alive
And are no nails.
With a peter pan depicted calmly.
I am not his ghost.
Children are children when they’re children, only.
Adults are the ones to save their cloaks.
And clearly no one’s words will shift
Society or present drifting.
And our president’s an animal
Calling people an animal.
No people’s an animal.
All peoples are animals.
Skin pierces either way.
Find your gun an ashtray.
Put it away.
Lock it up.
It’s no good.
And so, I pray.