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I’m exhausted by the grief And drained by this place This place that once held promise This world that once had values Or perhaps it never did
Tripping over wires of The mental lies Society tells us to hide Behind a disguise
Normalcy often sought by those fearful of what they grew up absent of. Who is to say identity is a sin? That checking the other box is not acceptable.
Prompt: What does love like? Love looks like constantly checking your phone for messages Love looks like grinning at that same phone when you receive them
Once upon a time, in the Red Sea, in the underwater kingdom of Bur Sudan, lived Queen Yaya /Trapped in her own kingdom/Silenced by traditionAnd empty after producing many heirs for a King /Triton, the careless, the traditional, the oppressor /Yaya
I know a few lost boys They wear skirts too small and pants too big They handcraft their own toys They shave off their hair and try on a wig They wish for time to pass but not to grow old
Freedom is tangible as glass stars. While it shimmers and shakes under the sky, It burns quickly, flickering out as dusk rises. Beneath the ashes the small ones scream, Filing into the streets below,