Hatred; a disease of inaction
No matter how much you
push me
or shove me
I will not break
because inside this body
I stand, irate
Erect and alive
I live with no tide
move for
no mountain
touch
sight or sigh
I do not hear my name
life running through veins
don’t worry or wilt
kiss only to kill
and when I look
outside these bars
I see no thrill
and
the pain of the vain
is hard to bare
with no witness to tell of my story
I have killed and slain each who spoke my name
and here sit with no measure of glory
bars go both ways
when one remains rigid
he allows no room to change
with age his heart rusts
and his bars become chains
no exit, no entrance
a death lived in restraint.
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