I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt.
Because you, I know you were raised
With those heirloom sunglasses tight on your face
The tint sharpened your reflection, nothing else was clearer
The world your eager mirror.
But sometimes shadows tiptoed at the edge of your frames
Anomalies. You pushed them away.
Then the shadows started shouting, they wanted rights too
But they weren't people, the only people were people like you...
Take the sunglasses off.
Smash your mirror-window.
Because I am a shadow
And my birthright is gags and chains
Silence and pain.
Your privilege is normality
Remember that.
It lets you walk though doors
While we're left holding them open.
Thank you,
Makers of naked door frames.
Thank you,
Those who attack chains with mirror shards.
Thank you,
Those who work to give everyone a reflection.
But for the rest of you:
Does it hurt to sometimes
Look back and say
"Hi."
Not like a zookeeper to an animal.
Not like a child to a doll.
Like a potential friend to a potential friend?
Because then you'll realise
There are many, many people in a world so small
And the shadows were human after all.
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A/N: This poem is meant to read aloud.
Particularly to the people who won't let go of their sunglasses.
YOU ARE READING
Anarchy
PoetryAnarchy. A swirl of topics: emotions, allusions to history, social issues... And somewhere in the maelstrom comes forth rhymes and prose. Note: If you can't be bothered to read all the poems (quite understandably), I've starred the better ones.