I'm Not Sorry Waiting for the Rain
I have dislocated shoulders from holding up the sign,
pestered by the lies of poisoned neon lights.
I wave my paper sword and wear a bullshit-proof vest
against orchestrated truth of deserving less than less.
With fabricated words of an overeducated fool -
too loud to be unnoticed, too blunt to be a tool.
I plagiarized the feelings until I could believe in
the cliché of greater good and being the fuel for the machine.
I've become the best of them by being the worst of me.
I've become the beast for them by being the waste of me.
When my eyes meet concrete and my lighthouse starts to dim
and the liquor starts to leak from the gush upon my chin -
the final roll of film speeds at five million rpm:
if everything I've preached reached just a single man
who can understand why I waited for the rain
to soak the droughty plains, where brothers will refrain
from growing up in shame of being less than great.
I was never sorry… waiting for the rain.
BIO: Branimir Hrvoj, rođen u Zagrebu, Hrvatskoj 1980, gdje trenutno studira i radi u Udruzi za promicanje hrvatske umjetnosti i međukulturnog dijaloga JAM.