The Difference Between Hides and Skins

Within the cracks of dry bloodstains

Are what they call human

The cruelty that is stained there

Will never leave

My heart filled with more than blood

It pumps with my name

Fixed with electric bravery

Yet they called me crazy

I don't stand in a comfortable place

Never let the knife bare its fangs into my ideals

I jump, run, and carry myself home

With others, they stand and say. "This is what it is."

Place me on a selfish shelf

Grab me by the throat and find that I am following nature

Not Laws

I feel my gut turn and twist under that

A single gavel can change that; crowds of greed can change that.

Does a tree fall into the court? Does it make a sound defending its neighbors?

How long do we last?

Before we burn everything with us.