Taking – a poem

Taking

I have run out of shits to give to people who demand from me

That which they don’t stand for  to enrich themselves.

Grasping cold straws to fill the void of cold life, they stand

For control over my body my life, my choice, which does

Not fill them with anything other than bitterness.

They turn old, they roll towards each other, unseeing, empty

Hand in ears, hands over eyes, they stamp the ground

With military precision, stabling freedom and bringing them

Nothing but consumable cold. Unseeing and foolish and lack

Of compassion, this crime that makes them weak

Stamp it out

Take away the right to be a freak

Stamp it out!

Destiny in my hands, they flick their fingers in my eyes, distracting

Pointing and waving, forcing my reaction

Lack of vision displayed in moving hands, Desperate for validation,

Knowing I have something to give, destroying it.

Fuck off.

Taking – a poem

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