Let me lament for you, my brother.
Though from the womb of another,
I feel your pain in my veins-
Your blood on my sleeve stains.
Let me lament for you my sister,
Your skin empowers like a twister.
No bounds are known to be due
Except those I impose on you.
A white knight in white skin
My love a mile wide, but thin skin.
My arrogance thick like syrup
I only speak words to stir-up.
My brothers and sisters, I lament.
Not for you, but with you.
Teach me about my arrogance,
And lament for me.
Primitive Poetry 
Ha … ha … , lamentations ,, makes me to think about “arrogance” in thick ? Do you mean , “thick skinned” & yet, wide as a mile too ? Fun to reads.
Leo, the lion.
4 june 2019.
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Hey Leo, sorry for the late reply. Took a sabbatical from writing inspired by laziness. “arrogance thick like syrup” refers to a large disconnect between me and the subject of the poem (those I lament for). Sort of like I want to understand their pain, but I am just not able to because I am not in their “skin” so to speak.
Thank you!
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