They Say What Naught They Know

               They say its locked up,
                in a holding cell.
              Buried ten feet deep,
                behind a brick wall.
              Covered in blood,
               beats numbed by pain.
            They say it don't exist,
                 because I'm too cold.
             Because Its all alone,
               behind those stones.
            That's what they seem to say.
               But they don't know,
        solitude is silence and silence is peace.
             That it's not chained down,
                its waiting to be released.
                It's underground,
           rising as bright as the sun.
            Beating like a drum,
Covered in the gold it outlines my soul.
               It is there, it exists,
Its past was etched in blacked, but its future unclaimed.
            Blood symbolize energy and life,
       not something as easy as pain.
It's relevant, It scare them cause' of things It is.
  It is  intelligent, beautiful, peaceful, caring, free, untamed,
          It is one spirit, one soul, one mind.
Some people refuse to believe in things they don't want to know.
       They say what will happen to it, now?
      Its a survivor, a trooper-it never gives up......
                      It is me.
                Who is "me"?
Look at your own reflection and answer- who are you?

                    -Sincerely Fay,