Does it matter to you

If my hair is pulled back

Would you prefer if I

Let it fall across my face

No. You say that

Would be a distraction and

If i am distracted I can not

Perform like your puppets who

Nod and smile and agree

With every word you say

And repeat

And repeat

But now you say different words

In a changed pattern but

They mean the same to the mob

Stay in line if you want

To be liked or else you

Would be dubbed a

Vagabond

You like to throw around

Words like that without

Knowing the truth behind

The letters just eight

And how your control

Will never contain a drop

Of meaning but who

Is to say that to be great

One must get in line?

Rules are made for those

Who simply lack self control

But you fear those souls

Who can fly with feet

Firmly planted in their morals

You choose the shirt I

Wear on my back as

Sweat drips between shoulder

Blades that rose from soft

Comfortable dreams

At the hour that suits you best

When you say the word i

Take off fast as the wind

But not as light with each

Pounding step an ache in

My body as i grind just

For the hope you will

Look at me and see a spark

An energy you can’t quantify

That deems worthy

For a moment

Maybe two if i nod along

Why must you clip my day

Trim my hours

Steal my seconds

All for the illusion that you

Have the best intentions

But intentions are not

Results and ours they are

Lower than the level we

Show as each one thinks

Me me me

if twenty years from now

My face is lined by

Not by furrowed brows

Caused by your injustice

But with memories

Each marked near my eyes

Tinted Rosey like my cheeks

as  I stretched my calves

Arched my back

Strained my lungs

Those hundred and

Twenty spaces where for a moment

It did not matter if my

Hair was pulled back

I couldn’t hear you

Over the beating of my heart.