The clouds have eyes
They have seen through these bones of ours
Dressed with our tears and emotions only
Covered our nakedness with handcrafted rags
To hide our gifts and make friend with our now
We are the children of the river
Finding the way back home to ourselves
To reach within the voice that cries inside
Wanting to escape, to accept ourselves
But what becomes of the people who “love” us
Will their love stay after they’ve see us change,
Into who we are birthed to become?
I think of it, yesterday and now a
And maybe tomorrow too,
But I will choose me after all of it.
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