Once we are born, we are suffocated by the lies of politicians
as it feels like the pressure and steam between an iron and a shirt. It forced
us to be chained down like Israleites and wear the adulterous letter, “I,”
like a Hester Pyrnne. We had been cursed to our individuality long enough. We
get it: We all feel lonely. We all feel underappreciated. We all want to be
loved. But we can never meet our basic needs with no oxygen. We have to
breathe. “I” cannot breathe alone. In order to become “We,” “I” had to be left
in the past. “I” had become the Goliath, but the strength of David was our “We.”
We had learned that it only takes one “I” to start an idea, but it must a “We”
to build that idea. And this was the beginning of “We.”
I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.
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