I made these from the remains of me.
I formed them out of ashes and bone.
Everyone wants to collect a fee
Though I forged them all quite on my own.
Some are blue for my poor broken heart.
Some stained grey for the shadow of debt.
Others green for the sake of my art.
Some dyed colours I haven't named yet.
Clicking of beads and ticking of time,
Pray, what will this revolution bring?
Will there be rhythm? Will there be rhyme?
Will I finally feel free to sing?
© Osquer Campbell 10 August 2022 🌞❤️🌻
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