By Darcy Prince (knowledge variable)

Here’s to that prophet, who stood up and
went out and did something of themself,
refusing the limitations and the how to think
cemented by this society, a true person
born amongst false people. For I’m frail
and tired of living with everyone else.
For my eyes are burning to everytime I
see you, strengthened hope felt, shuddering
essence to when you pay attention to me.
Poetry written by you, circulates in my
essence, for suddenly I’ve become a sin
when asked by others and on purpose I
avoid this society in no regrets. Poems
nourishes me. Prophet, stepping up in this
world, living life after death, martyred.

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