By Miles Francis.

Turmoil, Anguish, Fear.

Lobbed onto my forehead.

Broken pieces on my ears.

Spinning unnaturally into my world.

Spinning, twisting into a whirlpool of my being.

The dangerous ones come last.

Before I become whole again.

I must reach into that dark chasm.

Grind my way through tears.

Into my body and soul.

Forming a new person.

Charming, elegant.

Eulogy of desire.

The revolution draws nearer.

Awake we must be.

Economies will be free.

To change, overcome, transition.

The beast awakens and runs.

Finding its stride.

In our hearts and homes.

It is here.

It is now.

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