Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

They spat. They spit on my name and changed who I really was.. just like that. They 
assasinated my character. They need no alternate attack. Its astonishing how ones opinion can 
make people cringe at the mention of you. Nevermind what good you've done. Nevermind the 
times you've seen them through.

 

Still they spat. They spit behind my face and let it drip down my back. Rewriting all joys that i've 
brought and erasing the lessons i've taught. Like it was slaves I bought. Like I raped their 
daughters or bullied their sons or threatened their legacy. Like I signed the decleration of 
independence knowing I had no intentions on letting them live independently.

 

But they still spat. They spit on my dreams and my hopes for decades to come. Though I'm far 
from dumb. They put me in a mental bottle and corked me to one day be swallowed like aged 
rum. Beneath the scum. Forgetting that I was part of the village it took to raise more than just 
some. I was the one. The leader, the feeder, the father, the son.

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