I did what I was told
I watched my talents grow mold
The doe eyed child, the wild one
Smothered, my fantasies were stillborn
I filled my brain
With other men's words
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Then the surgeons on the white sheets came
They examined the tumour infested brain
Satisfied with the finality of my case
Like a hot meal on a pricey plate
They dished up the disease
In a certificate
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Now I expire like the years
Lean years of sudden drought
They are looking for skilled hands
But we the systematized are infected
We are monotonous
We are useless
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They want virgins who think outside the box
Minds that dream, spirits that soar
What about me?
What about the child you taught
The mannequin you dubbed
The enlightened one
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Try. Wait. Hope. Pray
Maybe luck will create a space
The wild one now is faith
It is so claustrophobic here
I am searching for my future
Have you seen it anywhere?
YOU ARE READING
THE SECRET OPERA HOUSE
PoezjaTHE SECRET OPERA HOUSE is a poetry collection of meditative thoughts and simple rhymes; there are very long poems, short poems, dramatic poetry for drama or performance poetry, and free style essays. The poems all have either christian or romantic t...
