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Hopeful Poet

5 Years Ago


Hurricanes recreate the path of slave ships 
Stirring the very water they once traveled 
Still, the fury these storms create is minimal 
To that of what we have unraveled 
Most days, I am truly baffled 
At the lack of substance making sense 
The generation of sold souls 
Selling gold for mere cents 
I refuse this aphotic world 
Along with everything it stands for 
I have beautiful children to raise 
For them, I want so much more 
I used to dream of saving it all 
With age I have come to learn 
You can’t force destiny 
At some point you have to let it burn 
Let it rise into the atmosphere 
Smoking the skies with what could have been 
Giving birth to the next hopeful Poet 
As the circle of life begins, again…