A Poem Without a Title

The feather fluttered, The human stuttered, The world stands cluttered, Who speaks on behalf of children not mothered? I am bothered. Looking further where my father is still absent, And abstinence is a ripe taste too long ago taken to remember. I am taunted and tormented, Flaunted and resented, My life planned out like a four-story apartment complex construction site In the center of the ghetto, Where my mental capacity flows into meadows of early goodbyes, And rushed hellos. I am bothered. Searching for self proclaimed sanity, But somewhere I lost half of me, Now I blend in unhappily, Sadly running after time in my own clash of fantasies, Smiling. My grin from ear to ear took tears to be revealed, The pain I undergo one day must be healed. Pleading, overseeing, and the lack of believing have deceived me, now I’m dealing, feeling, and faithfully healing, peacefully. Unbothered.