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I misjudged someone.
I took their appearance as hindrance
to their appeal.
It doesn't feel good to look at that face
and think about
what could've been.
No duct tape, rope or burlap sack
will ever silence you.
Go out there and say what you feel
because people will appreciate you.
Those that gag you gag themselves
with your lost breaths.
We have the amendment of free speech
so why not use it?
Our society is so worried about swear words that they are not getting the
big picture.
What we need is change and the only way that will happen is if we
*speak up.
When will you finally agree that
people are more important than profit?
If there are no people to feed,
then how can you expect to keep your
multi-national billion dollar corporation
running?

**You Can't!
Crawling through my mind,
I came upon a light.
It flickered like a candle
but it could never be snuffed.
This is my passion.
It's fire burns deep within me.
Next time you see me,
I dare you to look into my eyes.
I desperately want to sit across from that
lonely man in the restaurant.
Perhaps he, too, would
enjoy my company.
We all have had those encounters with lonely, old men dining alone in a
restaurant. In one way or another, we
desire to keep them company. Nobody
deserves to be alone, especially eating a meal.
In our darkest times of need,
the last thing want in our lives is greed.
You shut me out
with your words
your actions and
your body language.

You don't appreciate me
or my talents.

You don't want to get to know me.

Worst of all,

You don't care
about me.
Sticks penetrate my skin
pushing past my taut muscles
and searing into my bones,
twisting and wharping my veins
along the way.

My friends have the audacity
to throw stones at me,
bruising the ****** holes
where the sticks reached into my soul.

What is left of me?
I'm asking you because I am
blinded.

What do you see?

A heap.

A pile of bones that look like
a bundle of sticks tied together
with muscles strained and stretched
from the torturous stones.
This poem is quite metaphorical. This is not physical violence. This is verbal
violence. Just as deadly, yet more discreet.
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