Max Bufkin

A Storm Called Progress

History will remember,
It always does,
You can’t wash us away,
Our lives are stained in,
Permanent ink,
Our blood never washes out,
No matter how hard you scrub,
You could never destroy,
Every page we’ve hidden in our attics,
And under our beds,
Could never mend the scars,
We so proudly wear,
Could never take our joy away,
It would simply slip through your fingers,
Could never take our love away,
It would burn you alive.