I am bread

Mon, 09/28/2015 - 18:15 -- Avana8

I am bread.



Punched down,

But I rise.


They try to stuff me into a mold.

A perfect misshapen mistake.

The crux of a profile they see online,

A character of grandiose on TV,

A caricature of a culture.

But I rise.


They put me in an oven.

Fire and heat rage all around me,

The hellfire of their bigotry and false notions rain down around me.

They are set in their ways—obstinate.

So I have no choice,

 But to rise.





This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741