Contempt Has No Age…

My whiteness blemished by the tints of blue, green

and yellow; blood red and swift, drips, then dries, as I

lay in my bed of eternal lies.  When you are angry, your

voice becomes a fist.  While it is I who has no freedom,

it is you that stands in the fog of our world with

Pseudo intelligence and Pre-fabricated wisdom.

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

ECHOING IMAGES FROM THE SOUL

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