Sorting it Out

I did what I could do. I go where I can go. I prepare to watch Hillary paint her own canvas tonight. I wish her well as her ship sets sail. I have kept things quiet so that, on a day like today, I can get loud. Sometimes the reality of being misunderstood hurts like a blade through my heart. I explain again, and become more clear. I need some distraction or a beautiful release. I am the ANGEL tonight. I will live through the devil's play and the witches' folly. Again and again you all see me as the charm you can be. Take it from me, you cannot. This work is not hot. It is disruptive and cruel. I paint a picture with the sand I find in the streets. Still no one will give me the silence against violence that I need. It is all becoming very clear, and people CAN hear. That is about to not be. I am in PAIN, you are all INSANE. I do not generalize, you are all the reality of evil at play. Never a day will you see that you are not me. I just keep walking away. I try to relax. Even meditation causes me diress. I will be here. You can usher yourself out.