Because, maybe it’s better to cry for help
Where and when no one can hear you wail
The void doesn’t care and that’s better
Than being called crazy for speaking true
10.17.19
See the teal-haired girl in the back row
The one with dyslexia and a rough home
What can school do to change her fate
So she doesn’t die on a rich man’s plate
She fails tests not written for her caste
Assigned a number, reduced to scores
That whittle away at her strengths and core
Until even she believes she’s nothing more
Than a cog lost deep in a broken machine
Stripped of her dignity, hopes, and dreams
Tinder for burning, drought-stricken autumn leaves
Snuffed out all too early like earthen trees
10.16.19
Discarded lovers tossed like clothes
in hazy bedrooms full of hope
We make our lives a mess
Thinking one day we can clean up
We grow older, poorer, yet wise
Finding new ways to fill a hamper
Doing laundry, not living with filth
Learning to love ourselves, again
And for the first time, ever