My Stage is Society

Perpetuating inequity, plays its fiddle on this mind

Seeping into fingers, then riddled into rhyme

The keyboard my piano, its tempo off beat

Fingers find letters, no pedals for feet

No music for the melodies, my heart’s drumming down

No pitch or true key, to begin what I sound

Pondering in silence, my computer plays friend

The screen holding gaze, as its ear I lend

In the breaking of day, lips crescent void of thought

Yet fingers find letters, depicting world’s fraught

My melodies now written, composed to find hearts

But first, this construction, must be voiced in the dark

I preach out in gusto to my imaginary crowd

Words etched in font, are now uttered out loud

My captivated audience, pines this freshly formed skit

Their silence fuels confidence, to source souls legit

The words first written, in the covers of night

Are now readied as weapons for humanities fight

My mind not composer, in inequities chime

It’s the heart that forms symphonies for healing mankind

Humanities greatness and societies sorrow

Holds the brush for my art, and the palette of tomorrow


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