Whisper Lane

I have paper, I have pens so I write. 

You have lips and tongue so talk, 

But do it quietly the government says 

Because "Low Key" the government draft carefully, 

Keep tips in the mind and sending documentation to the shredder. 

This is a moral and ethnic issue. 

This is a frivolous case. 

This pain that I have ordained has yet to be sustained 

And yet I seek to expand my democratic ideals between love and fate. 

Not everyone wants a piece of the devils pie, 

I have to choose mind over matter 

Because to them nothing even matters. 

Citizens rely on promises that vulnerable older adults never keep 

Which breads bitterness, 

Liberating people from any solid idea of obligation,

Primal human fear of isolation, 

Spending time alone with their thoughts

And condemning themselves to an evening of loneliness. 

Drug addicts, 

Alcohol users and abusers, 

Depression, 

All symptoms of bitterness 

And yet the corner liquor stores shine brighter than the crosses on churches. 

Shots fired: Daily. 

Liquor store: Corner to corner. 

Rape victims: Daughter to Daughter. 

Bible Study: Just Wednesday's? 

Facts are ignored. 

No one will respond to my questions and still violence is erected. 

I scream, trying to turn my nightmares into dreams. 

I close my eyes so I can dream what I believe 

Because my path is lost, 

And it's directing me into negativity. 

This is where my heart belongs, 

In the shadow of God, 

In the shadow of Love and Trust, 

Instead of the shadow of Lust. 

Someone must do something, 

Someone must say something,

Someone better believe something. 

Because I am tired of keeping my heart aches and complaints in 

Whisper Lane.