Poetic Injustice

Upon thee arrival of opening heated pearly gates,

Patiently I waited for another chance to make a cool escape.

The shadows and a violet pen provided me with a plain face,

Released my inner secrets, stories I eventually grew to hate.

The women in black would begin to search wide, high and late,

Looking for more evidence to support their own unruly, personal case.

“She is an imposter!” “She’s fake!”

“Find the tabloids, exploit her page!” they would state.

With no place to hide, she quickly placed a stake in the doorway,

It started to thunder and then they were in to confiscate.

Frenziedly grabbing every sleeve as they forcefully pulled me away,

Now I had their undivided attention whilst trapped in a cage.

The spotlight felt grim and my limbs couldn’t stay straight,

Terrified at the fact I couldn’t run away had me in a daze.

The feast began with questions intended to bait,

My palms grew sweaty as they tried to relay and relate.

One woman in black finally surrendered to the locks and it suddenly became a race,

They stood in a circle around me for what felt like a decade.

They chanted, prayed and sang “It’s going to be okay.”

No one can hurt you anymore, your page has saved the day!

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community

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