my daddy...

we had no bullets or daggers,
but only files and papers,
his signature,
worth a splurge...

the filthy rich,
when in a dirty hitch,
came with seeds,
thinking he may be a finch...


then this happened...

he resists,
they persist...

he resists,
they persist.

man of might,
puts up a fight...
but they killed his thigh,
and kept his fingers alive...
he never signed...
.
.
.
.
.
.
he is still alive...
his walk is like a bird's flight...