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.