Dec 2, 1978 – East Village – Journal Entry – Poem

Disenfranchised
By a dead society
Detested by cult cliques
Dedicated to false idols
Death to their dishonor
Not noble by birth.
Not common by the desire
They are not the avant garde
Few speak of revolution.
I want to fight alone.
It’s a wasted fight.
I don’t know what to fight for.
Equality, justice, family, friends.
I know I will fail.
Fail forever
Until I don’t fail.
Even if I am only me.
I accept my nothingness.
One day
I can’t speak when
Car will rust,
Towers wil fall
And diamonds will be dust on the wind.
This destiny will conquer the greed, but what will rule destiny?

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