A bird with a broken wing 

Its memory of greatness; 

A stretched canvas of warm embrace

Air cut by swift blades of persistence

Unobtainable freedom by many,

While the few idolize their grasp of identity:

The very essence of their worth,

When in reality,

They are blinded

Believing that laughs will be muted,

And the sun will turn cold

Too late to realize their mistake

 

Then, the flame ignites,

And the burn follows in suit

 

Imperfection rooted in the ancestry of the world

Doubting the right to protest

While fires spread their grip of tyranny 

And land is forgotten under years of swallowing sea

Graves that are cracked and crumbled

Treated as dirt, from which they came 

Worse fates than a fractured mind as mine 

The bird perishes without a blink of existence 

Forgotten in the Flames