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Poem

Encage us we are of collective souls
Display us in prisoned wallpaper as ghouls
Send us into these sepsis tanks, in tin cans 
in torture dungeons, in faraway lands                      
Mistaken for us are the migrants 
who don’t belong in our black hole,
ripped from their family’s arms, 
and broken, it has a toll
Try to discern, unchain me,
give me the time of day
I’ve not done any of what you say
I’m here, do you not see me?
I’m tucked in all of your publicity
Before us you stand prestigious -n- tall,                                
your toughness shared inside our halls
Donning is the blood red Maga cap a telling of your gang
and Jackboots as they were worn by the Sturmabteilung
Wings reinforced by the sword’s blows, in your case 
against the chains that contain, and any empathy inside 
Keeping you safe an expressionless speech,
seal the deal it shall seal my unmerciful fate
Judged and sentenced without any assemblance
I see right through your imminent coarse leather, and
by the end of your reign, hard you’ll fall
And later the field forces in which you thrive
rotting torn in shreds, but still alive,
as shall be fathers ripped away from family 
Have you not exhausted every remedy for me? 
Infection is your reasoning,
concede for me and it shall be litigation of guilt
Rewards you’ve given, they’ve taken
and so, forsaken I be
Regardless of it, they have me in error,
as prison wallpaper

I work in the fields, a visa allows it
I wear pastel colors, a straw hat covers      
possessing no tats, what of straw hats
What of straw hats?

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