Speech in parables is effective to far few and in between,
to breech what’s bearable by being destructive to bar and skew those unseen.
Reaching out in unthinkable pain that’s so deconstructive just to scar and stew about the unclean,
screeching the unimaginable stain in collective only to glare and brew the machine.

To speak in tongues to the traumatized,
is to speak to the blind in sign,
to babble to the deaf in verbatim,
commune with the lame in brail.
To communicate in a language that isn’t comprehendible,
bringing the broken down to their haven just for slaughter,
all the while glorifying it to be something commendable.

Giving proclamations of humility,
masking the cloaked deception with stability,
in the grand scheme of things suffocating the choked perception of advisability.
It’s truly a misleading brand of a theme,
taking our revoked hope of restoration and tainting it with invalidity.

All I have ever wanted was to heal,
every turn of life it feels like I am only forced to kneel further.
The only pliability others see is the art of manipulation,
some kind of salvation is the sole thing I sought after,
so dangerously fought and beaten down just to be appraised for how much I riel.

What more need we reveal?
What else must we spiel?
We have so so little,
why do we have to infallibly continue to this cycle of broken parables?