My Own 'Unique' Nightmare
Just a little snapshot
of my own private hell.
my own unique nightmare
The conundrum
Where I dwell
This isn't where you dwell.
You haven't lived in this quiet hell.
So secretly bad
that my pride does swell
If you only knew
that I don't talk
'cause it's for that pride -
but if you'd try my shoes
- even my socks -
You'd be shocked at
what I hide.
And how wrenching my fears are
of that being mocked
and losing all my pride..
Afraid to open up
as I'm vulnerable
and I don't want the most bashful
Parts of me attacked
Un-instatiable
And dishonorable
Are the coping skills that
I sometimes lack
When being strong enough
To battle the unprecedented
isn't good enough
'til it burns so resented
So right back, on my back
When the world has turned its back
Because trying to engage them
Would be a society-hack
They can only seem to care
For what they understand
and in this alone am I
Just a one-woman band
Playing to my grave
as my unusual song falls
amid the deafening wind
of the billion help calls
There are friends
but many a foe
and in that
the friends
cannot save me
as much as I love them
as much as sadly
They've tried
lonely time
is what I bide
'Til I'm sucked up
into that lore
that deafening wind
and what happened to me
is just another
societal sin
To be forgiven with grace
as change moves
with a pace
so slow that many fall
or they die after being
Made to crawl
through the race
Because in spite of it all
It is still a race..
as there's not enough focus
on the roots of bias..
and we then continue to
empower
those financially highest
Although many claim
It's about acceptance
It's not a game
Well then show me proof!
or you're to blame
yes, you ARE to blame!
for playing
this insidious, murderous game
You play the game that holds my life
you play the game
that perpetuates
Suffering and strife
How can you not
When being part of the machine
means preserving "the dream"
oh, how will we redeem
the mess that we've made things
Nothing can wipe it clean
nothing can provide the means
to save unfortunates like me
ones who are just
on the fringe
of meaningful change
but not quite in the right age
so they fall
on the world's stage
before any change is fed
because
the fields must turn to red
And so it's here I lie
on my bed
as time
keeps passing me by
but I don't want to die
under a blanket of lies
and in that I must try
to share about the nature of why
the nature of why I hide
the nature of why I
slowly die
the hell
for in which
I lie
and why
They DO need to know why
'til they cannot deny
how wrong it is
then, I can die.
S.R. Ashcraft December 22, 2022
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