An Author's Cry

 

An author's cry

From a continent deemed have no lights

Seen from the loophole of my skin

Where silence grace the paper

And words filter the atmosphere

As my talents are my undoing

For she came with her heart dangling

Like sacrifice onto the alter she claimed

But in all honesty

My words she sought to incarcerate

As I was the beauty she despised.

 

After my tears rolled down on paper

She tears my heart to please her arrogance

Wearing a crown of superiority

She lies of being of good heart

Yet allotting a Judas kiss

Under the cover of the night

As my skin speak of my unprivileged plea

She snatches the saint line

And feed my soul

Off her infidelity games

That my sheets wrinkle at day

Awaiting the night

Where she host another.

 

Claiming the dangerous words

Her hate lies in the bed of my legacy

Crowning my head a destitute

But my pants speaks highly of her desires

As she probed my bed with her scent

That the truth get scattered between the sweat of two

Under the blanket without

Chewing my soul with her lustrous buffet

For she came with her heart dangling

Acting out like a lamb

But internal a wolf on rampage

Purging my skin with her glorious lies

Her words.

 

Who was to believe?

When her skin was true

And mine

Came from a continent deemed have no lights

And the streets glory given to those who lies

For history was her words

Under my skin

Deleted to stand a fair trail

As she author a lie to stand true

And debunk the truth as lies

For she was superior

So the world claimed

Neglecting my tears rolling on the paper.

 

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