Critical Situation

by The Abolitionist

Who am I?
I carry heat
In the form of pens and sheets
of paper, pulling capers, spitting hot lead
I write until ignorance is dead
I fire words into the darkness showing proof
My people hear the words and are still duped
believing the lie, they'd rather hear deceit
Stopping my mouth before I can preach
"Tell us something smooth,
your truth only brings pain"
"Why kick against the pricks,
dispelling the lie is in vain"
My hands callous as I grip hold
of my pen in fright
My pen bleeds as I take aim
at the darkness of the night
My name is Abolitionist
For we are many.

Critical Situation byThe Abolitionist

© Copyright 2000. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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