To those that held hands empty.
To those that feel unseen.
To those that feel left, plenty.
To those with hands, unclean.
To those that fail in bloodline.
To those that stand alone.
To those that have no lifeline.
To those without a home.
To those without a name, without a plate, without a tree.
Without commercials, or applause, or a table with a seat.
To those those come from lives with stories bleeding bloods defeat.
You, are, so beautiful to me.
It’s you in all the storybooks, in hooks in songs, in looks that spark, wonder.
It’s you I love, I need, I want and look to find in color, suffer, not.
You, are, loved.
Breathe broken, sweetly.
See past the noise and bells.
A silent hand can reach through time and cast forgotten spells.
Find beauty in the lights, the fights, and know, you’re not alone.
Today will be a yesterday, soon enough.