Art Poetry Social Issues

Angry. Furious I Am

Dusk-colored hair, gleaming from the moonlight.
Thick skin, replenished by the sun’s beaming light.
My royal statuette intimidates the pale covetous ones.
Indeed I am the one, the chosen one.
Fearless in a fearful world, surrounded by informants and adversaries.
My trust is the size of a mustard seed.
My patience is thin.
I’m short tempered.
Angry. Furious I am.
Reality seems so fabricated and altered.
History repeats itself annually before my wounds are able to heal.
This pain I endure consumes my entire being.
So it was written then so shall it be,
Those amendments about freedom and liberty barely applies to me.
Angry. Furious I am.
Dusk-colored hair, gleaming from the moonlight.

Thick skin, replenished by the sun’s beaming light.

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