I don’t know jack
about my ancestors
nor do I give a darn
about my forefathers
and I really should show
more emotion
for the fate of the ocean
but I am too busy
protesting on behalf
of the only
endangered
species that matters
me…
see,
hunters
are poaching
those that blow their
own horns
and these confidence
killers
take the rawhide
of raw talent
and exploit it
in the flee market
of free spirits
where it is sold
to those who hate
everything about
themselves
and then whatever
is left is ground
into stardust
glitter litter
swept away
and then washed
down by suds
of green envy