We the Conned Demned

feels like I'm hanging
Grin with the swing
my would be judges
stare at feet
while my bulging eyes
see the wind
as it flutters
the tree at the end of the street
you can't kill free
it will always breathe
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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