Speak Slow Sweet Chariot

I sit down at my desk

Pen in hand

And I try not to stab

At a vein

Because when I do,

The blood that leaks out into words

Are too potent for even

The minimalists of society

My words are too blatant

My cries are too high-pitched

Too ear shattering

And so I become numb

Trying to criptize my words

Trying to write so that

My audience can hear me

And not turn down my shouting

Perhaps if I speak calmly instead of screaming

Become the movement once more

I’d cry out “Help! Save the masses!”

But no one would hear

And when I sit down defeated and cry

All I see

Is “Why didn’t you speak up sooner?”

So hear me now speak softly

Whisper to the child next door that it’ll be alright

Lie and say you’ll save me

When the blood pouring out can’t erase the stains

That my pen has already made

“MOVEMENT IS MADNESS!”

“Cry out my name!”

“Justice! Vengeance!”

But the words will never come