Sunday, March 3, 2019

where is my voice as a free person; where is my home

I agree to some extent,
there are days I work in a disgusting manner, only creating more work for others,
And days I influence the young not to work better.
There are days I disregard my duties,
And give my jobs to the younger one,
And days I use my tongue not for taste but to run my mouth.
There are days I shamelessly bring in my report card with B's along with the A's,
and days I dress up a little more than others.
There are days when finding my bag is like moving in a maze,
And days when I fight with the young in a bloody craze.

But if I am answerable to you then why don't you hear me out,
for the deeds that I have done why don't you ever cease to shout?
Where is my voice as a person not suppressed,
where is the equal treatment against breaking rules for the rest?

How can I tell you?
I feel as shameful as you feel angry at me for not being responsible,
And I feel sad as well.
It is so hard for you to realise that I can be sad too, so you never consider the possibility at all?
Where are you when I stumble and fall?

This is not to explain myself but to show you,
Out of what of think of me, what all is true