I wish that I could adequately articulate it
The threads are light and silvery and hard to see.
They are also soaked in suffering and horror
it’s hard to look and remain in right mind, admittedly.
I admit it.
When the world is unsafe,
perspectives are shifted to a point
way off over there afar.
When threatened
some learn how to become hidden.
There are ghosts,
there are people in between
there are people you don’t see
I do not proclaim to walk in that world,
but I have taken and been given shelter
by its compassion and it’s twisted protection.
For some poverty is protection,
blight is beauty and weeds are medicine.
There is a whole N’other system.
For those who grew up broken
They protect themselves by being forgotten
Cutting the wires, alone, abandoned
Like a Billboard on a deserted highway
Like a tag sprayed on a forgotten cut
Like a message on the radio at 5 am
Like bad music made by cheap AI
Like a meme coming out a shadow banned account
For some poverty is protection,
blight is beauty and weeds are medicine.
There is a whole N’other system.
For those who grew up broken
They protect themselves by being forgotten
Cutting the wires, alone, abandoned
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