Elroy from Cross Sections by Libby DeCamp

I could have crossed the river deep
Round rocks in the arcs of feet
But I comb my hair, I fold the news on the crease
For relief

There's a jungle south and east
Rotting the tip of my green peach
Fractures the sake of destiny
This is not me

But a few months later
Your old eyes' razors
Would be the ones
That Uncle Sam took to my cheek

The sweetest edge had me for some time
To rid the torture from my tortured mind
Coward in my town's eyes, if I stayed behind
But it's blood for pride
When two worlds collide

On the banks, they anticipate
Wrists of lead tugged every which way
Deafening shrieks of the throng and their glee
Will milk my fate

But a few months later
Your old eyes' razors
Would be the ones
That Uncle Sam took to my cheek

Limbs to line the trails
Efforts that have failed
I spit out my teeth, now the blood in the sink
Is boiling back at me

But a few months later
Your old eyes' razors
Would be the ones
That Uncle Sam took to my cheek
But I'm the one that's weak
I'm the one that's weak

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