Stuck in Traffic (What poetry helped me see inside the shoes of many victims)

Heading down this lane I see no one beside me, 

Oh, that's right, I only feel someone inside me, 

I feel nothing but someone who's anal, a crazed Boy man with only one angle, 

How can I move when I am under pressure, 

I must remain quiet, silent, no just dumb, numb and under leather,

You see people like me don't just see beyond this street, 

I am a smuggler, hustler, player, and an object in these sheets, 

No one can hear my cry, plead, or scream, 

I am alone amongst my peers who see the same things that defile me, 

Lie, cheat, steal, 4 play me until you pedophile the living out of me, 

Harass me, rape me, coerce your perversion until you kill my living heartbeat, 

How can I live knowing the trauma, sometimes caused by my mamma who 

leaves me fighting for my sons and daughters, 

There is no money to be had, no way out, no light, no hope to be glad, 

Sometimes I think I sell myself, like Jesus sold himself so we cannot be so sad, 

I am not surprised when the femicide, like the guy inside, comes like a thief in the

Night and robs me of my joy in life, only to find a child who never grew up or knew

What love was like,

Oh, that’s right, I was molded, contorted, disformed and could not control the beast

inside,

Maybe I should run, hide, or maybe just rest in time before my next rodeo ride,

Don’t worry about my femicide, ignorance is bliss and we all want the same peace

inside,

But oh, that’s right, you already turned a blind eye while pretending to spy on the

criminals who’ve tried to escape the prison of heaven only to rely on my comfort

inside,

Wow, what a plight, a vendetta worth torturing, manipulating, and calling mine,

I will never forget all the places I’ve seen, the people I pleased, and the moments that

weren’t mine,

I should have committed treason, or without reason just turn myself in before I was in

deep again,

But oh, that’s right, even the authorities run deep in this thing,

We all bleed the same blood, breathe the same air, and believe the same stuff,

But, I’ve been trapped in the same past without my hour glass ticking in cash

and passing my trash around just to end up where I left off in his past,

Used, abused, confused, it never made a difference what I did to be unused,

I have no say, no voice, no pay to play in the same game as porn stars without the

celebrity of being gazed,

Hugh, to bring the two together would only make the game that I am in an even bigger

maze,

But, I must have sinned, at least that what my parents said the last time they saw me

binge,

I cringe, not at the thought of the reality that already foreshadows me but by some

divine providence I was chosen to be sodomy, a case never solved but held like when

I am brought to my knees,

Maybe one day I will see a world not filled with people who just sit back and pretend

to be activists,

The reality is they sit at home and remain in their permanent domes of pacifism,  

But, oh that’s right, I am still stuck in traffic, a mere perfect masochism

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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