Nightheart

Kindergarten sounded like 
small voices singing
together on the bus, 
a brunette next to a blonde. 

First grade tasted like 
ghorme sabzi that my mom makes, 

We were stargazing the other night
when we saw something that wasn't right 
against the starry, starry, lights. 

A train of sixty satellites were 
drifting in the sky that night and 

omnes nos machinis. 
we are all machines. 

whether we want to admit it or not, 
we are all machinges, 
grinding away day to day, 
cogs spinning, 
gears whirring, 

Climate change. 

We all know it, 
we know that it must be stopped, 
and we're trying, we really are,
but let me give you a different persepective, 
a kind of 'yours truly' from poor people 

So you scream that you're proud
of your pale skin 
and there's no reason that you 
shouldn't be. 

But remember that you were allowed
to be proud from 
the moment you saw the light 

History is burning around us, 
history is burning around us, 
the shattered stained glass shards
raining down around us. 

History is being bombed around us, 
crumbling architecture, gods