Our Room

YOU CAN SKIP THIS:
I've been having some problems with writing lately. Everything I've been writing has been absolutely terrible. So, this might be a little... bad. But, I just wanted to share stuff anyway.
This is why I never write introductions or notes or whatever, I'm so bad with them, it's humiliating.

So, yeah! What I'm trying to say is, I haven't written in a while, so this might be absolute garbage, and I might remove it tomorrow.
Thank you.


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We are the people of Glass.

We are the victims of this Black Supremacy.

We are the ones, who have hung above the floor,

In the room where silence is always kept,

As we sing our own lullaby,

To hush that voice from yelling a little too loudly,

Because now, we wouldn’t the other room to hear.

We are the people, who are friends with knives,

And ropes, and other metals too.

Sometimes we dance with our knees to our hearts,

And our hands to our eyes,

In the room where silence is kept,

As we sing our own lullaby,

To hush the voice from crying a little too loudly,

Because now, we wouldn’t the other room to see.

We are the people hidden from the world,

But exposed a little too often.

We are the silent tears,

The friends of death,

The darkest stars,

As we sing our own lullaby,

To hush the voices from screaming a little too loudly,

Because now—

You’re a little too late.