Felled.

Americana Injustica

If I were more like a tree
I could spread my roots deeply
I could sway every day in the forgiving breeze
I could grow old and die in solitary
If I were more like everybody
Life would not hurt quite as badly
Because I don’t find the same kind of misery
In any of the other creatures that I see
If I were more like I was meant to be
I’d do a better job at fixing everything
Things wouldn’t be toppled all around me
I could climb from the hole in which I’ve been buried
If I had been any easier to lead
Around by a tether and bound hands and feet
Id understand better the rest of the sheep
And be happy to forget my own individuality
If I were more of the woman I set out to be
Life might feel more like a warm homecoming

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