Loser

LOSER my parents taught me to walk and they made me crawl taught me to talk and they said be quiet they tormented my mind to slay my imagination their vociferations of scrawny advice a fragmentation of a thought hospitalized getting ready for a more robust job to mock my ideals * my teachers taught me to write and they cut off my thoughts taught me to read and they took away my books taught me geography and they pointed the enemy they were radiant with a vivacious inconsistent preaching that curdled with every word and left me tired hungry cold * my leaders taught me to love my country and they gave me political slogans taught me history and they didn’t want me a hero they torture my body to kill my will to live trashed my humanity to build in me the hate forced me on my knees to slobber on my head they put me with criminals to teach me how to kill they destroyed my files to erase my existence they spitted me out naked and hopeless my parents, my teachers, my leaders a spiteful reminder that I should squirm in front of their frying words and the meaningless guilt grabs me insipid achromatic odorless still there pressing pushing drowning thoughts they planned my life and I chose freedom * I don’t have old parents to care for and to cry over their shrinking bodies I don’t have roots shoved around as a leaf in the wind caressing the ground but I am part of a tree I’m a nomad unwelcomed writer with tired wrinkled eyes holding old forgotten songs of love and hate waddling to the kitchen for a hot green tea I write fossilized verses the murmur of a thought a tribulation to the language common sense and logic repulsive notions I drown in verbalism wasting my soul’s value atom by atom while I wait to grow white wings but my heart and arms are in breakable cast I am a loser with cardboard ideas and I project my mobility in a short poem charged with captive gods yeah, I’m a loser and that’s fine with me.