new beginnings
wait for us to
keep an open mind.
they sit at the steps
until we squeeze past
them to the door.
singing to us these
impressive, impending
triumphs. “be brave.”
we don’t listen. we are rebel
children without strategy.
we live with anger.
pride as our dishonest guide.
black paint on our walls.
we haul buckets of burgundy
and splash all that we were
given. destroying everything
because we feel we deserve
nothing.
tainted our gifts.
we color our dark hair gold.
replicas
of those against the revolution.
the revolution is self love,
says the approaching
beginnings. they lean in.
angels disguised as ghosts.
our walls are purified.
alive.
viva the lessons.
