From a strict soul pride emerges
through the foul and common odious
we try to adjust for a fit.
Organized misfits defining us
trusted activists denied a pass
we still try to adjust for a fit.
Ensnared by a crucial conviction
almost an irreversible malediction
we fight hard for a fit.
As we say, "they failed to deliver,"
our skins feel the edge of a cleaver
but we don't cry out loud
because it'd mean we're less proud
of our origin, our unity and side
and we won't adjust to fit.
Connected By Pain
Ally Fred
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 01/25/2021
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Poem topics: feel, pride, soul, edge, unity, fight, hard, common, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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