The world failed me 

and let me down

And kept me there with its weight

The gravity grounding me 

The dying embers of a sun fracture into pieces to pepper the darkness 

reminding me that no matter what it does, it will always be seared into memories 

when I am the son that surely will not be 

Those stars are fetishized pieces of a whole 

that nobody will bother to mourn 

who they will admire from a distance and hope that they do not join

The wind stifling my screams that nobody would care to hear or stop for if they heard

They excite the audience of a thousand green swaying sinners

Feeding off of the decay of others planted beneath my soles

They tease me

They are more alive than my own soul

They have felt the echoes of foreign footsteps and whispers of more to come 

They have felt the sticky hands of innocence and witnessed the fall of warriors 

They mock me by cradling what little is left of ancestors I will never get to know

Bones of forgotten stories that beg to be told

That cut through the air and slice through my heart

I stand surrounded by those whose voices are equally as heard; 

the bones and the grass and the stars and me 

Silently screaming and forever begging 

The grass lays at my feet, the stars send tears cascading down, and my bones ache 

A message to tell their stories and fight to be heard 

so I scream into the wind until my throat had soldiers makeshift tents 

so I walk until my feet are bathed in a sign that the battle has been lost or won 

so I listen until all I can hear is the echo of the gunshot in the beat of heart 

the scream, "we would never be heard"

and just when I thought I should join the silenced voices 

I picked up a pen