Rooster crows,

she’ll kiss her own forehead

with a smile,
Purging her soul from

the deep scars of yesterday.

Armed with self love, and brute 
conviction towards her craft,
She was no match for any army.
Not even those that shot her down
yesterday. Those who numbed her
spirit in cold dark prisons.
“A roman legion can’t stop me.
The poisonous tongue can’t derail
me from my ascension, even if
you bite deeply into my skin.”

I have seen wild flowers grow
ferociously through slippery walls
into Kings palaces, but you’re a
different breed of a wild flower;
coiling yourself around untested
territories, & edge of mountains.


see. faces of men, dancing in pale
shadows of sadness. Faces of men,
in quiet cemeteries; buried in
worn out emptiness and poverty.
beautiful cities of men, losing its
glories, through decades of silence.
we sadly waits for the birth of a
savior, to rescue us all, from the
wreckage of yesterday.
Oh, tell me why! Why do we humans
always waits for a savior, a hero?
Perhaps, we’ve been reduced to mere
men; forgetting that, we have an
inherent potential, to rescue each
other, when the evil hands of pain
& misfortune lifts its deadly head;
striking the innocent in cold silence.
Written by A.G. McDaniels // 11/11/15
Photo Credit: Google image