Fruit

Let our voices be uplifted
For honor actively upheld
Vast halls where aged oil
Seeps in historic interiors
Woodwork feeling alike a
Linear exhibition of status
Swollen on the obsession
Of self and its possession

Less than what it should
Or could be if said of the
Fact, still feeling grateful
For the direction of laws
And those documents of
Enumerated rights for us
Although 'us' isn't female
To everyone at the altars

Taken from battle, weary
No measurable restraints
In a reasonable schedule
Partial, and yet complete
Perspective a limited aye
Misrepresented as only I
& other outsiders can be,
As we persist at the edge

Not only was there bribe
with clear obstruction, an
Absolutely strategic path
Unfiltered through regret
But too, the rape of good
The assault on character
An assassination of right
& experiencing contempt

Stone fruit hiding secrets
So that interior maintains
A remembered pain, of a
Loss not considered real
Now we must keep open
Our eye to see the return
Look at that failed leader
As an antagonist of truth