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.
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