Severed

I know I must not matter much to you. Which is odd considering…well I guess it must not be a surprise that you do not matter much to me either. You claim all these lofty titles, yet you can’t hold a candle to your words. I have let coal burn me for so long, but no longer. I have been a chameleon, and I have blended my colors to suit your mixture. I am not a secret, god damn you. Slaves hold higher privilege than me, but I will reclaim dignity and aloof my beings. Once more, I will uproot myself and find promise somewhere else. This is just heathen. You are Death, stealing time, but I will be Life, making more. Do not act as if I call treason. My barred gates have grown block after block, slowly. Easily torn down, if noticed early enough. So be gone, and take your manners to the streets. Leave me be, hiding beneath the curtains of torn sheets.