War Paint

Beyond our flawless porcelain crypt,
there is a pulsing light guiding us
out of the lonely trenches we built
A forest where we have no barbed fences
to separate trees from flowers
and keep a thirsty deer from the riverbank.

A wild world of ours, a beautiful discordant symphony,
composed of strange harmonies highlighting our imperfections.
Without her bleached blonde roots
of the bittersweet poison that is our American dream
that everyone told her she must have.

Somewhere outside of the vicious snake pits
without the forked tongues that preach corrupted sermons,
grasping the frosty blade against the other’s throats.
A city free from echoes of empty choruses telling us what went wrong
while we watch the blood of our nation’s pride soak the streets.

One day, this majestic truth will be more than imagination
and the unworthy shape will find something to fit into,
the unholy gaze won’t be a condemned union,
the unafraid voice will be heard
and the lines drawn in the sand are erased.
People leave the concrete barriers behind
to rejoin their brothers and sisters, hand in hand.
A distant world of tranquil euphoria
We’ll be one step closer if we take off our war paint.