If I had wings

Then I could fly,

And paint the sky,

With pain and surprise.

If dreamers

Always dreamt

Then life would be good,

The shadows of death

Would be much understood.

If humans

Always love,

And children

Always laughed,

Then this colorblind world

Would be in rehab,

Fixing hatred

Stemmed from fixated lies.

If people

Didn’t expire,

And their lives

Were well spent,

Then clouds would

Never of had

The chance to have wept.

If sin

Wasn’t second nature,

But peace instead,

Kum-ba-ya

Would be over said.

If we

Got rid of the “if’s”

And fixed this mess,

Then my painted sky

Would be a portrait

Of the oppressed.