I bleed for this nation
I bleed for a nation.
For a way of life that you desire.
I bleed for the kids not yet here and bleed for the ones yet to come. I bled for your schools and your homes and the starry eyed widow who just wants company.
And yet they want more. All they ever want is more. The tubes already in my skin is not enough. The lives that we lost is not enough.
Those with the power sit on their bloody thrones and speak out to a world that begs them for a mere scrap of food.
For a house to live in for the right to live to love to breathe.
We are breathless in a world that has so much air
Blind in a world that contains so much light
We give our blood to mighty men under the empty promise that we may be like them. But they hold no truth in their words.
Their snake filled lungs bellow out hollow words made of poison and lies reaching out a hand to the downtrodden and those who have nothing left to give and they take their lives. Take the remaining blood we have and toss our bodies to the dogs.
What is the price of revolution? What is the price of change?
To the starry eyed wolves in the fancy suits speaking praises to a great machine,
To the greed filled pigs on the street speaking growth of a mighty empire
To the mountaintop city house of white:
What is it that my blood is worth? What is it that your peace is worth? A world of tubes and needles surround us. Tubes in our skin and blood in our wallets with streets paved with the bodies of those who just weren’t good enough
And when we are beaten and lost you push us further.
For the Woman that Desires to Be,
what is it about our eyes that fill you with rage
What is it about our joy that seems to stain your teeth with rage?
How long must we suffer before it is enough?
To the blades in blue within their iron chariots of ice and desolation:
Your body is hollow but your mind is not, How can you ignore the blood of the Streets
The song of our streets is rising in fervor with rage and soon words and lights will not be enough
For the Men that Desire To Be,
what is it about our scars that fill you with rage? What is it about our skin that seeks to be like you? What is it about the forms that we meld into shape that brings you such fury, such hatred and utter disgust?
To the hope filled hearts desiring Ascension:
How can you sit in your thrones watching the bloodshed of mankind and stand with them?
How can you speak the words of ultimate mercy and spit on my brother when our only hopes is to be like you.
How do you speak such love and devotion and then push us into darkness? How do you besmirch our own divinity in a world that lacks such light?
For those who are Neither and Seek the Truth of Their Own Hearts.
What is it about us that confuses you? Why is it in your worlds of black and white our shades of grey befuddle your minds?
What will be enough for a black hearted soul as tall and as proud as the mighty Oak?
To the Silent world that watches idly on:
Oh thou slothful creature of the world of Babylon. Your slumber and inaction mark your corpse with sin. Our blood lies on your fingertips on your lips. You kiss our corpses with your tears but do not become our saviour when it is most necessary. Vague Platitudes coat your lips in a shade of red that mimics our plight.
Take up your flames and fight oh Slothful one. Cast off the paper shackles which bind you and rise to the truth of your soul.
Denounce and defame the enemies that attack us day by day. Bind yourself to the pact of Humanity from which you were born from. Give yourself to our cause and pull us up when we fall.
We have nothing left to give.
I have no more blood left to give.
The Belmont's Garden 