Like in a maximum security prison
They ate whilst I suffered hunger
They laughed whilst I struggled with the words
They mocked and looked at the disabled
With disdain worth millions
Disapproval of me and at the same time
Feeling grateful for their culture
Yet there’s nothing that could stop me
To continue walking
My own path
No matter how bad
It is received
Because from my own point of view
There is a pattern in which
I am trapped
Delayed start
That’s all I have
Throughout my life
Made of all kinds
Of damp steps
But always in my rubber soles
Keeping me away
From any trouble
That I might stumble upon
However
I always try to stay
At a distance
From every uninteresting sound
Begging to attack my ears
Whilst I am ostensibly busy
With my own life
Leaving aside
What was supposed to be my culture
But it has lost its taste
In my mouth
When I tried
As hard as I could
To forge my invincible truth
Full of fallen leaves
From past forgotten views
*
10 November 2021
revised on 22 September 2022
***
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.
Sylvia Plath
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