Loops

her whispers surface in broken fragments

all withered and cracked and lacking

her eyes, distant

her mind, unsteady

 

it’s hard to gain balance here

burdensome to be a thinker between whirlwinds of dejection

enveloped by hostility without reason because it’s so easy to take this bait

 

“BE YOURSELF” written in bold letters across screens, signs,

and spit from every troubled mouth

it isn’t offered but thrown

not whispered but shouted

 

but if they mean what they speak

then why do her words remain unheard day after wretched day?

 

over time what is believed to be music

turns into a series of unsynchronized screams

a deranged melody if you will

hosted by open mouths with empty heads

that absorb this violent contradiction

 

but there is something terribly beautiful

in the way that she

and others alike

inhale chaos

and exhale poetry

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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