Damnit Lenise
the sadness deep: pain;
poetry’s the only place the awake speak plain –
maya, illusion, plato’s cave,
we’re the shadow puppets they watch,
on whose downfall sus glances pray
from those who long fearing our rise, made sure we were imvisible to naked eyes,
in poverty, blind,
at the center of some labrynth
All Journal Poetry journal poems poetry
