For the ones who can't

Location

85302
United States
33° 34' 55.6104" N, 112° 10' 5.1996" W

You were a child 

who didn't belong in one place or the other.

How could you respond to the taunts that still haunt your deep thoughts?

Between the father that hurt you 

and the mother that gave you up

but what's important is that you didn't give up 

on a life

yes you fought, you survived-

 

And thrive 

is what you had to learn how to do to learn what to do 

in a strange new place 

where no one knew your face or spoke your tongue

"Dumb loser. Dumb loser." 

To that, there's no truth sir. 

You were smarter than the lot of them-

 

How hard could it be when your mommy's name is TV?

and your closest friends and the people that taught you life's lessons

were just animations,

pixels on a screen, 

it seems-

 

That daddy really sucked. I know, trust me it's messed up.

That the man who gave you life wants no right part in it. 

Love him. Hate him. Love him. Hate him.

Does that cycle ever end? In the end 

He's only genetics.-

 

How pathetic this rhetoric must seem to someone who his whole life

was compared to a queen 

and I dont mean royalty.

Loyalty 

was all you needed from your parents but what you were

was transparent 

and it was apparent 

that no one would ever understand you - 

 

"you whore." It's a word you abhor and an issue

you find hard to ignore 

because a girl is more than that

But it's a matter of fact,

that she'd be attacked for the exact same act

a man could reenact 

with no backlash

So she lives with that social phobia

until she can find her own utopia that is risen from-

 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

As you've watched bridges burn, 

as you've run out of trust. 

They promise to love you then they all disappear

or maybe it's not them, maybe it's fear

but either way you're alone with no way to atone for the things they've made

you think you've done wrong. 

And all you're left with are the bad lyrics to a cliche love song.

 

Those stories don't belong to me.

But to those that otherwise could not speak

 

As humans we're told 

we hold the right to free speech

but then they tell us don't preach,

don't cuss and don;t discuss issues amongst us

so our words become superfluous 

thus 

millions of voices are being bought out 

and the ones worth listening to 

are being snuffed out

 

Without a doubt,

we are all broken, beautifully broken

beautifully flawed, our thoughts unspoken

our feelings still raw

and that's why I write

because maybe others can't fight 

for their right

for their voices to be heard

but I hear their stories in words that are slurred and in

their spirits,

deterred.

 

I write for the ones who can't.

Because somewhere there's someone who wants to 

don their wings and shed their cages but they're told

that their words don't matter.

They're forced to live backstage  

and its their lives that implant themselves onto my page

so that for a moment they might take center stage

that they may glisten brighter than any

in their very own Golden Age

and for a moment won't belong

as a slave to a cage.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world

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