“Refuge to the mournful hymns.”

Melancholic cries lay to rest here

A thousand voices pulsating down

Bestowed upon every year

The world home for our frowns

Cascading breezes have lifted our voices,

Our hearts have finally called in rejoices.

Ivory and Midnight skin,

Have demanded the air,

Only crying to be seen as a voodoo pin.

Scorched facades to wear,

Has been placed there by the greedy,

Forgetting that we are all that is needed.

Whirling wind begins to form,

Breaking the bark of our tormenting lives,

Illuminating our fury storms,

With an envious ego of prickling hives.

Where our melancholic cries have been put to rest,

After taking the time to see what needed to be addressed.