Cursed

As a societal pariah,
am I not deserving a grand denouement?
When my tale reaches zenith,
will I be shackled,
by the abhorrent atrocities,
your accursed kind has wrought,
upon my tempestuous form?
Light my pyre,
I need a tan.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace