United States
33° 7' 26.4504" N, 117° 6' 8.3988" W

I can now finally say that I’m used to it.

I’m used to everything and everyone

And how things are and what they turn out to be.

I’m used to sayings and gestures and people pointing at me.

I’m used to hiding,

Used to whining,

Used to liars and stealers.

I’m used to fakeness, unforgiveness,

Used to takers and cheaters.

I’m used to looks,

Used to crying,

And I’m tired of trying.

I’m tired of trynna have a voice that nobody’s buying.


The equality between our neighbors is just too sickening.

The love for all people is just too outrageous.

The cries of trauma is much too painful,

Because the voice of reason is just too unbearable.

The world gives you a cushion and on top are Devil’s horns,

And as I try to spread what forewarns,

You take hell into your own hands and cry ‘cause of the thorns.


It’s all a cycle to push for destruction

At the minds of the people and its abduction.

My truth spreads rumors to create its permanent entity

To recreate everyone’s own personal identity.

But we cannot do this alone.

We cannot ask for permission.

We cannot deny to riot

Because “parents” are not interested in justice,

They’re interested in peace and quiet.


The truth of our lives is the only just of our being.

We cannot let anyone tear that from us agreeing.

Our job on this earth is to exploit the truth

And get rid of our generations’ sweet tooth.

The lies are the coating woven from thread

To cover the infamous reality of the undead;

Roaming the earth with smiles being hunted

By the heart seeking closure for what was once trusted:


This poem is about: 
My country
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerfully expressed! Truly powerful! Keep sharing keep sharing! The world needs your expression! Keep sharing your life your mind your heart! 

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