The energy has
left me;
I no longer
exist.
I am only body
parts, like
a machine set on
auto pilot.
My mind is
elsewhere,
on an adventure somewhere in
Peru, or under the
Pacific ocean's front.
It's like
they
own me,
gouge out my
eyes, cut off
my tongue and make
me pretty;
pinch my
waist and paint
my lips,
sew them like a
designer dress.
If the rest have
given up, why
shouldn't I,
a black pawn among
kings and
queens?
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
The energy has
left me;
I no longer
exist.
I am only body
parts, like
a machine set on
auto pilot.
My mind is
elsewhere,
on an adventure somewhere in
Peru, or under the
Pacific ocean's front.
It's like
they
own me,
gouge out my
eyes, cut off
my tongue and make
me pretty;
pinch my
waist and paint
my lips,
sew them like a
designer dress.
If the rest have
given up, why
shouldn't I,
a black pawn among
kings and
queens?
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