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By @MeaningfulMee


I close the curtains, lock the door.

But that’s just locking in the war.

Living live without meaning,

Everyday is just demeaning.

I get up between the closed doors of home and house.

Living in the same place all my life but still being asked where are my whereabouts.

Is tiring.

It’s funny how my authenticity is split in two,

but the one I have been raised in isn’t my authenticity,


Maybe it is, but when “I’m being told to go back to my country” so bluntly.

Like I am nothing without a rough green ballad between my lips,

To the society that raised me, I am slowly losing grip.

Long nights glaring at the silhouette, with nothing then upset.

Restless in bed, the words floating around in my head.











I know, it like the skin knows bruises,

self-esteem I seem to refuse it.

Spent time at doctors,

I saw my voice as the monsters.

That I should fear, so no one got near.

First day of school and saying here,

cost me a happy year.

Remember that science class,

the first mocking that hit through me like out of tune brass.

and then I died.

Well, not fully, I’m still living but I stopped feeling alive.

Everyday just seemed contrived.

But I got up again and again,

Have no one to talk to so, I’ve always typed down my pain.

No, not always you see,

I couldn’t look a page without filling with rage.

Cos I known what I wanted to write,

words like, procrastination but I never got that far in my education,

so I wrote down waited and that I hated.

I left music and history, my things.

To go the resource and trying to spread my wings.

I guess, they never realized that wolves don’t have wings.

Hours and hours of weekend reading,

Crying tears and mentally bleeding.

So for so many years my expression,

was displayed as only aggression.

Cos that was what I was shown.

Over night it seemed I had grown,

from a girl to a woman,

I was eight.

They wanted to protect her, so my perfect world I began to create.

I tried to write it down but the only word I can still read is fat,

I’m not surprised about that.

I can’t remember how to spell,

so why do I remember every hurtful word and spiteful yells?

I got a laptop and for the first time I could finally express,

my internalized distress.

But all good times have to ends,

so my accent and lace of “R”s kicked me,

Every word was thought out like a philosophy,

never spoke carefree.

Never let be.

So now when I’m anger and I hear my words,

flying out of my mouth like released birds.

I don’t hear the meaning I hear the sound.

I shrink, I compound.

So I use my fists to talk,

cos that’s what society thought.

Everyday words, I fought.

Cos I was trying to train the fire that had engulfed me,

Every speech therapy, resource class and handwriting book was a plea,

to set me free.

Words, I try to use them to express my soul,

But, words are the only reason for that goal.

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