This Much is True

This much is true

You will never know what I sacrificed for you

Fought conventions so I could stake my claim so 1990 could mean something 

This much is true

I have been unable to put pen to paper because all you’ve gifted me is brutality

I got tired of shouting 

I got tired of talking 

I got tired of whispering

You fueled my psychosis with your blindness 

You’re bound by a lifetime of oppression 

This much is true 

I got tired of showing you 

I encouraged and elevated you

Fidel died but tomorrow you will continue embracing mediocrity

The carcasses you stand upon mean nothing to you

They fought and died too

But, I bet you think you’re immortal 

You quote the dead so you don’t sound like too much of a sellout 

This much is true 

My pen bled for you

So you could open your eyes 

Our past is withered in acute radicalism 

Certainly not ours but theirs 

They stole our diamonds but you give it to them on discount 

This much is true

All you know is how to loot

Your impoverished mind is very much overt in its bogus wealth

When will you listen?

Their corrugated walls will one day seize your palace of marble and rhino horns

This much is true

The revolution skipped a generation 

Even our expectant matriarchs mean nothing to you

Their nudity all but served a short lived uproar

But this much is true 

Even caged my voice will not falter

My pen might pause but it won’t stop writing 

This much is true 

Your liberator is a thief and a killer

Just look around and you’ll see

Marco Cochrane

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