I shake awake in the night;
Hate burning white through sleeping eyes…
I can’t take away all the pain,
The consuming blame –
Read me, see me: the smiling face of shame…
I can’t paint the picture right…
My colors fade,
Strokes don’t catch the light.
What’s my name?
I exist inside the stampede of the sheep
How am I such an indistinguishable beast?
As it turns out, I’m the same as the rest
My heart still beats right here in my chest;
Just not the same as before, I guess.
In reality – there’s open space;
Gulping up the Human race, insatiably feeding…
Not once disbelieving.
And then there’s me, unsure where or who to be;
Unclear on how to think, can’t find the rest of me.
I’m alive and not living – cut off by constraints
ratcheted tightly round my limbs,
Tucked cleverly away beneath
Any surface that I am able to see;
Hidden just enough to discourage everything about me.
Americana Injustica 
Your name is مقاتل
Your name is nejlepší přítel
Your name is μητέρα
Your name is athande
Your name is সুন্দর
…. and to me, your name is mama wa nyota
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♥♡♥♡♥
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Wow! This is powerful! I love the questioning nature of this and can so relate… I also enjoyed the few internal rhymes here. Gorgeous work!
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Thank you Lori ♥
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You’re welcome 🙂
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Reblogged this on georgeforfun.
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Reblogged this on Beasts of Articulation.
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[…] The Disjointed. […]
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Hidden, yes, but peeking out a little here.
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