Layered like an onion skin,
What if something is missing?
Unknown and "too young"
My own thoughts crammed up inside my stomach
Too tightly attached to know what to do or where to go
How do I know?
Why do I have to know?
Mention the marches and the violence
The ribbons of colour that are a danger to wear
You'll see me rise to twice my height
And recite the melodies of my heart
The note-bashing of unspoken anger, a memory.
I don't know who I am,
But I know what I want.
I want a world where you aren't misunderstood.
The words they twist
The glowsticks they snap
Makes you think once you choose one
There's no changing that.
Undecided as of yet,
And it shouldn't be a crime
To walk with the Pride of the ancestors
And speak with the joy they represent.
They loved who they loved -
Good for them.
Never a punishment in sight,
That's the future I seek
Without declarations of equality and peace
On conditions where we all stay bleak.
Secretive measures, God, it's as if we have claws
But if I did, I'd prove them right
I hate your middle age appeals
To shut out the brightness and sew shut our lips
Or else you'll hear all of what must be said.
A proud, proud, life.
The thing that I'll miss
Could it be the person inside me
Who I want to represent?
~
About the Creator
Ruby Red
Heya friend, I'm Red!
I write poetry, so subscribe for a hint of vulnerability, some honesty and the occasional glimpse behind my mask 🌱
Taking a break from Vocal; focusing on my anthology 🫶💖
AI is not art.
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Comments (1)
This poem's raw emotions really hit home. Reminds me of the struggle to be true to oneself.