So they say:
I am diseased
because I’m different.
I am disgusting,
for I am distinct.
I am a widow on the wall,
a cockroach in the kitchen.
I am stubbed within the sand,
gouged into the grass.
You hold me in your index,
and huff me out your mouth,
for I, the English cigarette;
am a sickness in your lungs,
and the cancer beneath your feet.
I am black,
I am bubonic,
I am a plague.
They seem to fear my spread,
yet, I am pushed, I am prodded,
I am pummeled down to bone,
for I, the English cigarette;
am extinguished by your touch,
a light, and lifeless ****
an easy target
caught between your malice
and the cruelty of your words.
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 5:07 PM UTC
So they say:
I am diseased
because I’m different.
I am disgusting,
for I am distinct.
I am a widow on the wall,
a cockroach in the kitchen.
I am stubbed within the sand,
gouged into the grass.
You hold me in your index,
and huff me out your mouth,
for I, the English cigarette;
am a sickness in your lungs,
and the cancer beneath your feet.
I am black,
I am bubonic,
I am a plague.
They seem to fear my spread,
yet, I am pushed, I am prodded,
I am pummeled down to bone,
for I, the English cigarette;
am extinguished by your touch,
a light, and lifeless ****
an easy target
caught between your malice
and the cruelty of your words.
We are not what they say we are, but their lies cut deep, no matter how strong your skin.