Things I won't admit

Walls aren’t made of bricks

Words aren’t made of shit

I haven’t been sick

this is never-ending bliss.


tell Them thank you, please

all those heads, shoulders, and knees

so concerned if I’m at ease

never cold, toes of amputees.


they weren’t swollen with diseases

not viruses, nor lesions

not abscessed or inflamed

might have flourished if maintained.


Blood and pus and spit

Unaware of the extent

unintentionally spent 

on some undeserving malcontent.


Watching closer than one might,

visions drowned last rainy night.

Filling up as I down a drink

never thinking how I’ll sink.


Suffocating, strangulation,

trembling with carpeted saturation.

Unfulfilled by words not promised,

though believable by intonation.


Arbitration begs subjugation,

Adoration needs temptation.

My opinions lack affirmation,

they’re nothing more than speculation.


Fracturation, distillation

Deprivation of sensation

My most frequent of imaginations.

This poem is about: 
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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