October 2nd, 2018
Destroyed, I am, for being me,
Is what I whisper endlessly,
Days fade away and my eyes turn to grey as I'm unrelentlessly torn from my epiphany.
Destroyed, I am, for being me,
Is what I whisper desperately,
This is not what you told me in your promise of liberty,
This is my story, my dream, my possibility,
In the name of whom or what can you tear that from me?
Is this a test? A trial it may be?
If your liberation is my devastation, that means nothing to me.
Destroyed, I am, for being me,
Is what I cry out in agony,
This destruction shouldn't be our destiny,
For we only asked of what we could be.
What's your excuse? What have you to tell me?
What do you speak that isn't mere blasphemy?
Have you no sorrow for those who lost their tomorrow?
Have you no pain for those who lost their name?
For existing in this universe we're viewed with distrust,
And destroyed, we are, for being us.
YOU ARE READING
Outlet: My Book of Abstract Thoughts
PoetryMy book of poetry, philosophy, literature and everything of the sort. Anything you read in this book can be interpreted any way you want, making it abstract. With no exact schedule, I put my thoughts and experiences into words not so blatant, in or...
