One Battle
A story of a life
Just one person’s brief existence – My life
Amidst the jargon – the pleasantries
The story was told I think my death occurred
Oh at least five or six times during the trial
Not to mention of course being reborn again.
After all I was sitting in the center of this mess
And not in a coffin
Liked some believed or wished
The emotions flare up like a furnace fed to much fuel
And becoming dangerously close to exploding
It is extremely hard
To conquer the anger boiling away
To stop making any passing word
Becoming knots of frustration and wishing
Oh so much wishing
To be able to strike out and hit someone… something
Prejudice – That inhabits the phobic assholes
Who sit there and say what they have done
The destruction of my life
Caught between the facts
The way it is, the way it has to be
And wish, dream, hope,
That it will be over one way or another.