Our Pretty Walls

Comfort
is not
our
friend,
It's cozy
hands
gentle as
silk
are the
hindering
restraints
that
block
all
change,
and the
Kool-Aid
that masks
the taste
of
freedom
it
leaves
us
blind
with
grand
pretty
walls
sightless
to
pain
and the
pangs
of
poverty
and
what a
hard day
really
is,
it's
far more
than
not
feeling
cozy,
their are
people
who eat
dirt,
and folks
that are
broke,
and
sick
frail
souls
that have
never
been
well,
there's
a broken
bashed
world
hungry
for
help
and someone
is in
desperate
need
of
you