Untouchables
Wrinkle of your nose
Disgrace across your face
The dirt upon my skin
The odor of my soul
I'm nothing more than a slave,
Like the muck beneath your feet
The life we lead is chosen
And we do not dare to provoke it
Maybe someday,
It will be different…
Maybe someday,
We can live
And not just fade
Copyright © Sara Phillips | Year Posted 2010
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