Sad Poem of Injustice Opresssion

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Blue streak on black hair

       Both dyed.

                             No father. Strained eyes from crying fear

All night is every day

               High platforms on expectations and boots

               School work. Medieval torture

                                                                                               No different for me.

Motivations low. Feelings lower in the darkest days.

            Eyeliner longtime put on.

Dark circles around eyes covered with dark circles of makeup.

                                                          Waking hours asleep. No one matters. But music

                                              Of Fallout Boy gives me empowering thoughts.

               My mother oppresses my expression of social justice.

The patriarchy. Controls even her.

 

     Fuck fuck. Shit fuck. Ass Shit. Fuck fuck.

Girls with popular faces.

                      Faces with popular asses.

Fuck fuck. Shit fuck. Ass Shit. Fuck fuck.

                                                                                      I am surrounded by sheeple.

 

 

Music concert Sunday. 

                         Black Sunday in tights and fishnet top.

My trigger words are raining upon me like 

                                                                                                                         punches

                                                                                                          on abused women.

        Too many men around me.

                   White girls dressed like 

Russian mailorder brides

                                                                             RAPE

surround them.

Wish I didn't have the same pigment as them

                                                                                       RAPE

                                        RAPE

I hate my color.

              Should have stayed inside. Paler then.

                                                              RAPE

 

Go back home to happy place.

                                      Home is not really home.

                   Home is sadness.

 

Social deviants collect

                                                                                         and conform to the standards. 

                                                of what we need

to feel ok.

                           Might as well do meth.

           So sadness.

                                                                               Give me money for college.

                      Pursuing gender studies.

                                                                   Meat is

                                                                 Murder.

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