Writing

i wanted to be a writer

collected words to form my thoughts

                              to dictate what i felt but couldn't say

What a beautiful season

Yet i wish I knew what was going on

Behind my back

The memories I wish were gone

It happened right in front of me

But my eyes were to blind to see

Was it all a lie

“What groups are you a part of? Who is your tribe?” someone once asked me. 

i know all the words, of course. who doesn't? we are practically

brainwashed into our knowing, having to stand and face the flag

(when did you learn that it was hand over heart &