A trap hidden in the night, the moon masked by the clouds of sadness. The thought of peace eluded by a faithless whisper blown in by the wind.
As the weeping winds blow tears that fall on the graves from her past, soaking the solid earth with love, and heartfelt sorrow.
Emotions buried by the hand of loneliness, suppressing the voice from inside the mind, replacing the strength she once knew with self-doubt.
Her innocence and faith stolen prematurely by the vacuum of those with false entitlement, that left her buried in her own voice.
Choking on the words that will free her, burdened by the weight that smothers the light to darkness.
She wants to silence the lies of the past, the one’s that bear down on her from the outside. The eyes who only peek and judge without empathy, using the weapon of guilt and blame.
The long nights of self-inflicting pain turns the stomach, the anger of shame spark the frustration of an oppressed soul.
A wounded heart begins pumping new life into her soul, mending the scars with empowering voices that cry for unity.
The voices are heard across the land, shaking the weak egotistical foundation of entitlement. Momentum begins to build with each single voice blending with each other, then the cries turn to anger.
One powerful strong voice, forcing that wobbly ground that shake and start to crack from beneath the feet of the empty. Dropping the unjust to their asses, one at a time.
She’s tired of silence, her voice used to mean something, she’s tired of muteness, she’s tired of hell.
She’s done feeling trapped. Her tongue is in unstapled, ready to yell. Her voice becomes strengthened.
She looks for support, whoever will listen. There’s two ears right here, that’s willing to listen. It’s a battle that’s fought, and it must be in numbers.