Cords

Cords

We don’t need validation to our existence,

Through the existence of another,

But we do want validation that they can hear us.

That our screams don’t fall on deaf ears,

Or winding hours, the immortal hymn

Sung by the cords of Father Time.

Our words stand to be justified,

Unlike the injustice

To that of falling towers.

Falling towards Earth,

Being shot down by insurgents,

My insurgence against my own well-being,

Mirrors their terror.

Because their desire is the same,

To leave you in shambles,

Soaked in fire and dead in flames.