THE COMMONER
If I was to curl fetal
would someone cradle my body?
Regardless of my skin tone-
Would they
hold me close to their pumping heart
as mine seizes to exist?
Without prejudice of my beliefs-
If I were to weep
would there be someone to soothe me
Regardless of my religion-
Would they
hold me close to their human frame
and mold mine?
Without prejudice of my spoken tongue-
I incubate inside my own womb
waiting for the day of light
for someone, anyone to remove me
From that dank, dark nursery
A broken human reminder
"We are all created equal"
...Inside our glass box
In the silence of my world
I voice my reason:
"It is not hostile"
"It is just lonesome"
I hold onto
an empty swaddling blanket
Many walks of life have harmed me
they have UN-harnessed my defenses!
I have made my bed
inside my illuminating house
the foundation screams:
"HERE I AM"
Underneath it all
the red soil of bludgeoned humanity
The grave is deep with rooted consequences
and the only comfort found is a close space
with the underworld and it's parasites
No where to run or to stretch
these intertwined appendages
I expect, I am colorless
by now and perhaps dreadful looking
or just physically awesome!
The blood of my veins travel within this cage
I have scratched it's surface
and I have bled the shade of life
Behind this flesh... we are all...a pigment of pink-
Written by,
Abby lynn
©
2012
THE COMMONER
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