Fetch Clay, Make Man. Read between the lines.

A poetic response to NYTW's Fetch Clay, Make Man.

Read between the lines.

by Imani.

“Ordinary” people lining the streets Realize the lies Written Scribbled on the cracks in their palms These set perceptions aren’t them They stand dazed and disoriented They’re sent adrift In a sea between the translucent drops of arsenic Can’t you see they are lethal Seeping into their veins Encompassing their bodies And questions are formed in the cracks The, the creases of their masks withering away But who are they And you can’t help but wonder Who are we Without the bloodstained Searing Pained masks we are forced to wear And forced forever to bear That useless weight No don’t be you Be that idea of what he wants you to be She wants you to be Wait no Be better Better than who you are Who you are Leaves a foul taste lingering in the air That smell Your smell Is destitute and disgusting And clings to his nostrils Her insides turning and swelling Halloween isn’t the only time That man decide to wear masks Watch them try They try so hard To hide their true identity And the sad sad truth of who they are A party girl A clubber A pimp An educated person Lovers they are Sacrifice You must note my sacrifice Maybe if you stepped back From your black and white world Where all the puzzle pieces fit perfectly And that puzzle fits in the frame And that picture has a perfect spot Right over that That flaming fire place in your home You’d be able to open your eyes And see theirs are bloodshot Crying tears of blood because They’ve been shot with a dose of That shouldn’t be you They get it yearly Daily Monthly And maybe Just maybe If you opened your arms You’d find you’re embracing the conflicted souls Maybe that’s when you can tell They are lost In their eyes In their bodies Within their spirits. The tightrope they walk Slowly, timidly, and arms outstretched Balancing themselves Who they are seen as How they see themselves Who they want to be Who they are Just waiting to fall I can see them hiding. But am I the only one Trying to break them free Am I the only one Wanting to tear away their masks No I will I will yank those masks Rip them away Shred them Make these old sick looking brutes Reveal those “ordinary” people Have these masks they once wore Shower them in a love That won’t be returned Make them scrub those people clean The ones they once possessed And they will continue scrubbing Showering Slaving Until they are the ones Trembling and dumb Until they are the ones hiding Between the masks