i look inwards
and try not to personalise
i dab,
the sawdust from my eyes

maybe that is the lesson –
that trauma has taught
the ball of poison personality has caught

arms extend –
like cranes of love
catch my falling star
it’s metallic to the touch

we have split people –
into groups
and categories
and assigned each a value

of course,
a level playing field
a solid foundation
we must build

all the things –
i never thought i would be
and i’ve broken moral codes
like matchsticks under pressure

Change Grips Me change grips me in a hold capitalism will not be told socialism, has been sold and i … More