Do you hear the anguish cry of the downsized?
Even the dolphins being butchered in the ocean cannot contained the sound
Have you noticed the mark of inhumane discoloration?
By the thick nectar of a system of pride, of terrified humiliation.
The Nightingales chant in chorus the voiceless melody
The thousand songs of her inexpressible agony
Written in her heart the untold stories of her optional existence
This, for hundreds of years documented as bad prophecy.
Bull riders ride on his horse poised, proud and magnified
On his right hand a thick rope stirring undeserved suffering
A scene akin to a ravenous tiger chasing his prey
Apathy drives his jaw to feast and jubilation.
The day I mourned for being a man
Tears streaming my eyes now that I have realized
My flamboyant class slaughtered and slaved
The magnificent work of a perfect Creator.
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