I am tired of their hawk eyes
I am tired of covering up and being careful
You hold me on a leash so tight
the ringing of the bell around my neck is all that I hear
they walk free and fill dark empty alleys with their victory laughs
I am an object
so they break me and
try to fix me with cheap glue
I am a commodity
so they trade me
I am a territory
so they mark me
my words don't matter
they name me numbers
and I am tired that after all this
they turn their faces and say
"come on man it was a joke".
YOU ARE READING
UNSUNG BALLADS
PoésieThe ocean does not apologise for it's depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness for the space they take and so neither shall I. This is some of my original poetry , that was getting too tired sitting on the last pages of my notebooks.
