“who are you?”
“what makes you think you’re any different?”
Funny you say, honestly I wouldn’t be specific.
My roots run the ocean, sleep with the sun
These roots paint sidewalks with toted guns
Buttered knives if you prefer beans
These roots bounce with every step, nourishing every net
here, it’s worth while to see
how the earth is our vase and we won’t dry out
melanin lives but it can die out ...
