in this human plant *** i sit
withering away bit by bit
no sunlight here nor in far sight
with such little to my delight

hindered from growth
filled with self-loathe
to who do I call
to bring forth rainfall?

drop by drop I float atop
this human plant *** encasing its crop
I'm drowning amidst what feels to be a drought
of meaningful moments of what I'm without

the *** is now all that remains
in telling a story of one's only gain
in consuming more than is required
in losing yourself to desire.

why is it that when it comes from someone
someone other than yourself
that you acknowledge in it the efforts
it ought to have taken for the torch of someone else
to uncover what has sat patiently upon the horizon
as a lighthouse, with you as its beacon?

it's always the case of
"what do you want to be?"
yet never the question of
"who do you want to be?"

my physical form
my identity
calculated and measured up
to the value of my degree?

now I understand
you want what's best for me.
your journey through life,
your family tree

is what defines your
desires, your plans for me.
any plea I make, any way
to justify

that this life is for me, and for me
I'll aspire
to build on this life
you intended for three.

for what seems to be a lifetime it has been in your eyes
that I exist within, the place in which I disguise

my absence of self, my adequate compromise
to embody what I assumed would surely suffice

in satisfying every one of your desires. after a while, I grew to realise
that our case was one of sheer convenience, not at all a prize.

so with these words our journey I canonise
to remind you of your wrongs, but most importantly

of my rights.

Open your eyes.