Emphatic to Trap

As you make-believe to be innocent and neutral; yet under the magnetic glass your fingertips are found all over my pane. As light is to shine and night is to rest. Wrong… my life is rolling in an illusion box like a forgotten Cinderella in a midnight crisis. Seems like I'm lingering between past and present. We are neighbors, friends and shake hands like democratic, republic bureaucracies. As I am... still at Baby steps- Is this a sham? Shouldn't be! A viscous debt for my sovereignty; blood shed on the Republic soil. My wings shouldn’t be clipped off. Where’s the land of the free? Uh, my mistake! Cripple from the womb, absolutely no chance to thrive. Your twist , turn, barricade my path and bandage my view. Black tears run down my face and into my mouth- salty, bitter taste, Spit! The fire of revolt illuminates. Hearts are pumping blood unable to stop. As always stick with the popular chapter. "Pointing fingers at others..." Clearly that isn't the known fact. *Emphatic to trap* It’s like serving division and hatred on a spoon to aliment poverty and disarray. But… just before the shoe falls off the other foot- Let’s stand united, so we can clean up the air. For we’re a nation of Sang mêlé; hell-hole isn’t our destiny © 2012 by _Patricia Etienne All rights reserved