We Can Be Better / Burn the Strings

A response to “In This Place (An American Lyric)

Residential School

Residential School

The horrors they witnessed are unimaginable. Their strength and will were continuously tested to the point of no return. The few that managed to make it to see the light at the end of it were irreparably scarred. Those that managed to escape with all their limbs intact had failed to realize that their insanity was already cracked and splintered. The scars that they will harbor for the remainder of their lives will cut deep and burden their conscience with no reprieve. More than 150 000 children were failed at the hands of our country. The inhumane treatment and abuse they faced at the hands of individuals, who had advertised false promises,  will irrevocably become intertwined within their future generations. These facts are difficult to acknowledge but are the truth nonetheless. With this truth, we are faced with the choice of what to do next. On what we can do to ensure that history isn’t repeated. Our voices are interlaced with a strength that most are unaware of. We carry power in our words, which in turn, spurs action. As a collective, we are a formidable force. We are equipped with the humility to inspire a change in our country. Our country belongs to the people, and it is within us to ensure that it is a place of acceptance and constant growth. We owe it to all the children, men, women, and families who had to suffer to make us understand our flaws. We are capable of change. We can be better.

A response to “Barbie Doll”

Marionette Puppet

Her limbs twitched

a meager effort

against a greater force

trying to convey the turmoil

  ripping her apart from within


Streaky makeup distorted her face

reapplied at the slightest sign of fading

she was prepared to be paraded along all day,

jerky movements that went against her primal instincts,

and everything she yearned for


The circus neared its end

she was left on the stage

deemed no longer useful

discarded by the puppeteer.

Her arms were raised above,

a sign of defeat.

Reminders of her trapped life strewn around


Oh how she wished to burn

to burn the strings attached to her

to burn the stage she was chained to

to burn every boundary that held her captive.

Only then she could be free

 

 

 

 

 

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