on the edge
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Unstable
by Michelle Faulkner

 

 

You think this is quaint, a case of the blues

A handkerchief for a dainty cheek

But I want to howl, I want to shriek

I want to tear the world in two

 

As you safely stand

In your well-dressed land

Handing out ornate soliloquies

Like pennies

yet neglecting to understand

The poverty of agony

 

While my dark demeanor

is dismissed

I will burn buildings

If you insist

 

On painting glitter

over rage

On labeling my pain

a phase

 

An inconvenient rite, a blight

On your ladylike

well-mannered path

My wrists bleeding

As you correct my math

 

 

My words are not petty, not obscene

I am not a robot, not a machine

 

To defuse, deprogram or debug

Or merely lock away and shrug

 

In your placid belief

that compliance is peace

What is prison for

If not release?

 

 

a line, (a blue one)

 

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