TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS

i can see them outside of my window
the angry faceless masses in riot
the cracking of windows
the breaking down of the front door
they’ve got their torches
they’ve got their pitchforks
they’re after the something i have
that they know they will never possess

they’re shuffling through my drawers
knocking over my lamp shades
they’re filing sinister through my papers
my computer, my phone, my internet search history
they know where i’ve been
and they’d probably have a pretty good guess
at where i was going
if i was trying to escape

they’re tying me to the chair
they’re cracking my ankles
they’re breaking my neck
they’re poisoning my mind
they’ve got me tied to the chair
and they’re pacing confused
and they’re pacing confused
and it all comes burning down
and their yells fall lower
and their demands become useless
they can’t have it

they will never have it
the smirk on my face
the smile that i’ll wear
under the thickest of torture
under the heaviest of trials
under the darkest of genocide
the cloudiest of fog
i will always be the same
under the worst persecution
i will remain
that locked box within my heart
in the light of any torch
or through the piercing of any pitchfork

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “MAMA, I AIN’T SAD (I’M JUST SINGING THE BLUES)”