Status: In the works...

The Caged Wolf Howls; An Autobiography

Chapter II: 1935

I.
The blood soils the grass’ blades,
knee high, ripples and wades.
Brutality; staccato the dirt,
Where spring once did flirt.

II.
The birds sing no more,
gone from trees and lore.
Wells’ water once clean,
Taken red and evergreen.

III.
Upon the dust of ancestral bone,
where the weeds are best grown.
Once where the bodies did lay,
Just where the dogs do stray.

IV.
Do you care so little for your name,
That you destroy the land on which we became?

V.
This cigarette burned legacy,
All of this century’s blood inside of me.