stoppersecution
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What makes me tick?
That drumming of your fingers on the desk?
How about the way you stare,
With those fancy clothes you love to wear?
No.
I don't have all the money in the world.
I, the student, seized on a night of cold,
Booked and found guilty, for reasons unknown.
Immediately, my freedom was sold,
Despite my friends' pleas, I was all alone.
Later, while I was brutally tested,
Such tears of pain,
of shame,
wiped from the page
smeared in ink stains.
If only she had known,
maybe these tears
would never have shown.
