Kicking the dust
which sits in front of my face,
I look back with no remorse.
This place
was the land of tests and chores
and it tore me, tore me, tore.
I'll cause these mountains to shrink
no matter what kinds of neighbors
may lay next to me.
I say the things I say,
and I'll be damned if that freedom --
at the very least,
to be free to enjoy it --
should be taken away.
My fists clenched up when I saw 'her'
standing in the hallway,
intimidating, tall, and talks -- always --
with a sway
that is demeaning and targeting.
I don't care what kind of 'charisma'
these people have.
YOU ARE READING
the Dawning of Rage (poetry)
PoetryThis is a book of enraged poems. Don't say I didn't warn you! The purpose of this book, essentially, serves as a therapeutic outlet. This is NOT some manifesto, but a place of expression. Feelings of such loathing and hate, I don't believe, should b...
