A Cry to the Parents that Hate

The drones of the deluded

Echo through out my head

Piercing my feelings and ideas,

Obliterating my persona,

Capsizing my metaphorical ship,


Parents, a call to the guardians of the young,

The preservers of intellect, the destroyers of dreams

I summon thee,

To be,


Show the hopes, the feelings and leave them

Wordlessly in your wake

Sons and Daughters, that suffer, make pace,

For at dawn, with no lack of

Haste, we will not level the playing field nor turn

It so favour would be ours,

But in our morals, destroy it and make it

Only ours.

The playing field broken, our spirits uplifted,

They came marching back, dismissing our wishes and calling us

Just kids.

We said we valued their opinion and vision,

But no, it was a lie to escape from their prison,

They say they love us, but dismiss all

Our pleas, telling us we are different, throwing us in

With the fleas.

We are the children of the misguided,

The misguided children of thee,

It is not a phase, or a choice, it is the life

Given to me.


The End

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