To whom do I cry to?
Everyone I know is up in arms.
We’re all fighting a war,
privately or out in the open,
Glass houses shatter under the abuse,
beneath our feet shards cut us,
Our mirrors are broken, so we no longer see who we truly are.
There’s blood or there’s water,
There’s blood or there are tears.
From where we all stand today.
I see no difference.
Don’t call the things I know will happen paranoia,
don’t call the things I’ve seen a hallucination.
All around me everyone fights
for freedom, for money,for recognition,
though they’ll sail away one dawn with the tide.
The aches,the regrets, the pains, the malice…
we are all scarred and bloodied
Stained,right up to our souls.
They transfer from place to person and person to place because we always fail ourselves.
And so the cycle will repeat itself from age to age.
Day to day.
PPhotography by Josephine Kuuire(c)