Whatever.
That is all one can say
When something as clear as day
Is swept beneath the rug
To make it go away.
But the lumps are plain to see
The lumps that deceit has left on me.
Reminders of the lies
And the injustice of not being worthy.
No, I’m not worthy of equal protection
And, upon further inspection,
Neither are the others
Who were admonished for their dedication.
Dedication for doing the right thing
Trying to keep the field clean
From all the clutter that
Some would fling.
I’ll say what is in my head
Coming here I’ll always dread
Continue to stay?
I’d rather be dead.
So, onward I’m bound
With nary a sound
But to remind:
What goes around comes around.
(c) 2008 Sheila Jones
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice. i can relate to this poem also.