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The Deepness
The somber light
of dying nights
translucent as the
shadows that flit
about my opaque
web of lies that
have ensnared me
in its velvet embrace.
Deep in loam
burning their homes
of which the toilers
have built with
stolen hands severed
from men whose trials
will never transpire
and are forever unfair.
Precious jewels
no acres for thy mule
whose rigid bones are
comprised of the reason
that your ancestors were enslaved
to steal the souls of
those who fell before
your rusted sword
comprised of darkness.
