Welcome

By: Keithayonna Davis

Cesspools of lost dreams

Could’ve beens

Forgotten.

No rolemodels to say this is how, if you wanna.

Smudged

Smoked

Stinks of dead bodies

Murky waters

Aborted mistakes.

It spilled over white

Funked the fresh linen

Smothered all the essence of delusion.

Satan could be in plain sight

No one would notice.

Death close behind

Dressed in common clothing

Heavy metal pressed cold against skin.

Wombs

Mere dollar figures.

Pumped up

Laced

Painted over.

That one there,

She’s still in middle school.

What do you call an abused child who doesn’t realize they’ve been abused?

A robbed man who’s unaware he’s been robbed?

A stray dog that never knew the warmth of a home?

I think these things

As the train passes by.

Washed out colors

High Bars.

Baseheads.

Winos.

Centers.

Becoming one as the operator catches full speed.

A project is what they called me-

Us.

Placed strategically into orchestrated chaos.

Names crossed

Categorized like lab rats.

When we drop,

When we drug,

When we breed,

When we give in.

Yet

When the tractors roll in,

When the wrecking ball swings,

When the dynamite ticks,

When the blueprints are laid out to deconstruct streets we never owned,

We weep .

Like children who haven’t realized they’ve been abused.

Like robbed men unaware they’ve been robbed.

Stray dogs who never knew the warmth of a home.

Cesspools of lost dreams.

Could’ve beens.

Forgotten..