Conscience

Yesterday unbinds the conscience of today
twisting happiness free from the pressed grip.

     Gripping hands wrench happiness away,
     claiming some divine birthright over all others.

My right to birth claimed nothing and everything
when I arrived from nowhere into expanse.

     Arriving, somewhere rather than nowhere,
     I learn how to be sadly dangerous.

Danger and sadness merge silently
when blood threatens to appear on white pages.

     No blood found on pages, black and white,
     means demands have not yet crossed borders.

Borders demand to be crossed so as to
unbind the conscience of tomorrow.

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