With muddled hands all aligned
we fought the chains that confine
our hope for an equal world.
The brutish pain has been hurled
in our general direction, years and years;
collated tears and tears, unchanged.
Created division between poor and rich,
as though the poor aren’t human
reshaped and modelled to, look like,
speak like, act like but not quite, like human.
The brutish pain has been hurled
in our general direction, years and years;
collated tears and tears, unchanged.
We are human,
trying to turn the page,
trying to create a change,
so that the story continues on…
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 7:00 AM UTC
With muddled hands all aligned
we fought the chains that confine
our hope for an equal world.
The brutish pain has been hurled
in our general direction, years and years;
collated tears and tears, unchanged.
Created division between poor and rich,
as though the poor aren’t human
reshaped and modelled to, look like,
speak like, act like but not quite, like human.
The brutish pain has been hurled
in our general direction, years and years;
collated tears and tears, unchanged.
We are human,
trying to turn the page,
trying to create a change,
so that the story continues on…
Rejected Poems # 6
