father,
seperation:
the thing that is killing this generation.
segregation:
don’t do anything without his validation.
father, give me a sign:
perhaps make the stars align,
and make my sky bright to night.
my posession is a precious sight.
i took it out, the cross: they see.
should i make public my poetry?
alas, you spake to me with sense.
why do you think that you must cleanse
all your worries out on paper?
keep it all: talk to me later.
but father, i write to express
myself fully, and i try always to confess.
at times i fail, but forgive me.
cleanse me now to relieve me.
©LukaKorba
With love,
Luka.