Once
I made noise,Once.
Now I'm silent.
There was no hunt,
Back then,
But now the hounds
Howl at my heels.
And the gunshots echo
After me.
They wait
For a stumble.
A stutter
A scratch.
Any sign
Of difference.
I am the hunted.
Now the qualities
That once brought a grin,
Are now those of
Failure to conform.
Of a freak.
I had confidence,
Once.
Now I'm withdrawn.
There were no cells
Back then.
But now those,
Of the accepted
Slam the doors shut,
And each has a separate key.
One alone,
May see through the bars,
And wish to free me
From condemnation.
But there are a million locks,
And there will be no freedom
Until I'm approved by all.
I was treasured as a difference
Back then.
Now I am scorned.
There were no courtrooms
Back then.
But now they are everywhere.
And all but a few are judges.
Once the lawyers,
Would have said.
I brought a laugh
To all eyes.
Now,
That same person,
Would be condemned
With sideways glances.
I was colourful
Once.
I was accepted,
Once.
I was myself,
Once.
Now I don't know.
Poetry by Tal¿a
Read 941 times
Written on 2006-10-21 at 05:16
Tags Angst Acceptance Difference
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