(Non AC Related)
I wrote a poem a while back and was hoping for some feedback on it. It's a political poem influenced by the song Take Me To Church by Hoizer and the current issues that are going on in Russia. Thank you for your time.
One in every three rape victims don?t report it. That means one in every three
Walk free with good company that?s undeserved.
A boy, 16, hangs himself,
Because he and his family can?t see through positivity
Clouded by delusions of hate and shame
For fame that no one can blame
you for. I sit in a crammed closet,
with clothes tugging me back and hangers digging in my hips
isolated in a room full of people,
that mingle and a tingle shoots up my spine
to remind that I don?t belong here.
If that?s deserved then my apologies,
For I Can?t say what may be good or bad but sadly to your dismay also,
You can?t either.
You say we?re going to burn,
Burn underground and set alight,
Ignited for what we fight for.
But we won?t burn in hellfire created from Wrath.
No. We will burn, from flames of passion
And the warmth of love and compassion we shared
And the heat from ambitions of fighting for the right to be respected, tolerated, accepted
Fighting for a moral compass that you can?t see
Because pen and paper overrule that in your eyes.
Because it?s unnatural. It?s socially unacceptable something
Unpredictable, despicable, disgusting.
Coming from respectable human beings who are
Enlightened by the light of good will toward men.
I wrote a poem a while back and was hoping for some feedback on it. It's a political poem influenced by the song Take Me To Church by Hoizer and the current issues that are going on in Russia. Thank you for your time.
One in every three rape victims don?t report it. That means one in every three
Walk free with good company that?s undeserved.
A boy, 16, hangs himself,
Because he and his family can?t see through positivity
Clouded by delusions of hate and shame
For fame that no one can blame
you for. I sit in a crammed closet,
with clothes tugging me back and hangers digging in my hips
isolated in a room full of people,
that mingle and a tingle shoots up my spine
to remind that I don?t belong here.
If that?s deserved then my apologies,
For I Can?t say what may be good or bad but sadly to your dismay also,
You can?t either.
You say we?re going to burn,
Burn underground and set alight,
Ignited for what we fight for.
But we won?t burn in hellfire created from Wrath.
No. We will burn, from flames of passion
And the warmth of love and compassion we shared
And the heat from ambitions of fighting for the right to be respected, tolerated, accepted
Fighting for a moral compass that you can?t see
Because pen and paper overrule that in your eyes.
Because it?s unnatural. It?s socially unacceptable something
Unpredictable, despicable, disgusting.
Coming from respectable human beings who are
Enlightened by the light of good will toward men.
