Minority
I hear the whispers in the wind. I hear the cries from a distance. I hear the shackles beneath my feet. Have been caged no longer free. Have been stripped from all identity, now I am withering away. Have been forced to live a life that I didn't ask for.
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.