With no pointed angles to hold us up,
We fall, fall forcefully among the masses,
No sparkles in the dust below,
How easy it is to get pushed.
As a child on a swing so eager to jump
But knowing that there is no soft landing,
We are thrown into a new discourse.
Distant excuses ringing from afar,
No loud bang just murmurings
That it won't and could never be our place.
It shone too brightly to allow the other in.
Now that we have learnt our fate,
Masks hung innocently over our faces,
Cloaks of greys and blues.
No bells chiming when we made the landing.
Far away from the who knows who.
Take those hands from deepened pockets,
Remove the swollen scarves,
That zip doesn't hide the demeaning brow,
Unpack all the anger and hurt.
A battle of stars against bridges of stone,
Made tall with stacks of mortar,
No frown will give us prominence now,
Is that what we are after?
