Fingered

Reads: 105  | Likes: 5  | Shelves: 2  | Comments: 5

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 15, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 15, 2018

A A A

A A A


We point our finger at them,

and then we're the ones to assume the blame,

they never feel sorry for us,

as we absorb the tears,

the fears,

weighted down by their chains.

Carried on for years,

stacked up like rocks,

playing their fucking games

its good to be afraid,

this is what us want to change,

sick and tired of their jeers.

 

We redefine this space, 

between the dark and the gray,

our fate becomes a shape,

free and alive,

We don't count our days,

our breaths or our footsteps,

we make our own fate;

without regret. 

 

 Soul un-looking,

we find a new way,

unbroken,

with our last breath,

nurturing us alive,

understanding how our core,

comforts us,

separating our progress,

our process,

as we drift away,

unchained by their words,

free, and slamming away their false morals,

unsilenced.

 

 


© Copyright 2019 Dr. Acula. All rights reserved.

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