pressed lips against
mud caked glass
tiny pupils blink
one...two...three..
let us out.
tiny hands scratch at
screen doors
that slant
like heads
looking
into
everything.
let us out.
they weep
as they sit
before flickering t.v. sets
in footed pajamas
and teddys
tucked under arms
that havent
reached for the sun
in too
many days.
let us out.
they ask
as they see
the world spinning by
but mommas cant
not when
brothers kill
each other
and grown men
stick flesh
into tiny boys
gaps.
not when
lies
run free
along with
ice cream trucks
blaring
tiny tunes
that sound too perfect in the distance.
let us out.
but poppas cant
not when
vicious politicians insists
war
is the best path
and
corner stores
become magnets for stray bullets,
when
darkness
dares to parade
in his pimp hat and cane
right at noon
sipping fortys
with Lucifer
and it seems no one
believes
in believing
like they did
back in the days...
let us out.
because they too
need to live
rub
eyelashes
on the clouded sky
and scrape
cheeks
on concrete
doors
just to feel it all.
and so what if they learn
to bleed before
they need to shave?
if they learn to fall
before ever taking flight?
if they understand life
isnt about living
but about the many deaths you
encounter everyday
let us out.
because.
that is the only possible way
we will learn to
resurrect
after
weve been devoured
and spit back out.
lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil...
and if you forget
its okay.
as long as you just
let us out.