Colourblind

Pain and suffering just the same,

as our atrophied minds corrupt out hearts,

bitterness and indignation sworming my head as it whispers their sins.

Selfishness abundant as the day progresses, 

giving leeway for my transgression, that killeth another,

it feeds off of the flesh of the innocent,

and rewards the dishonorable, how shameful, how ironic.

My tears mean nothing to this sorrowful world,

my accomplishments not approved,

I am all that I have,

My acheivements made known to self.

When will my pain be acknowledged? 

When can I be free?

Only God knows,

only He can set my soul free.

Colourblind

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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