Unseen, unsaid

The glares and the stares

Wouldn’t it be nice to step in a room and not be judged not get the dirty looks of;

why are you here

You don’t belong

It’s always there, it’s not new the staring of jealousy, envy and hate which I didn’t create.

Admiration and hate is a weird combination however, imitation is the highest form of flattery.

What a world we live in as tempers flare. The truth is being uncovered to make us all aware

It’s not black, it’s not White, it’s just what is right and what is just.

I dream of sitting in a plume of bougainvillea, the national flower, its fuchsia petals, vibrant captivating this is where my peace lives.

Fruits in abundance, Blue skies, fruitful, lands of fertile soil, for the food is my medicine it heals me naturally.

There, my humanity is respected It’s nice, welcoming, exhilarating to go somewhere and walk into a room and people are not shocked and upset when I walk in.

However, here I am in a callous, concrete jungle, artificial, man-made, cold devoid of feeling. Clock in clock out.

Soulless cities, they hang their heads in. Shame it’s all a game.