The weight of history
is what we carry everyday.
Like ankle weights that shackle us to an antiquity we never lived.
Past
Unlived shared experiences that we know all too well.
Different time same words but unspoken.
They don’t know, I try to explain
Everything translated as angry pain
They pacify emotion as stereotypical figures
Of you
Of me
Of us
They don’t understand and they never will
We try to Explain
Present
But we neither understand the past, the present, and we are leery of the
Future
Like scared children of the years gone by we attempt to find our way home in this distorted maze of lies and misconceptions.
We without a map or guidebook attempt to find
Home.