How am I supposed to continue believing?
Continue achieving?
When I can see them seething,
Just because I am breathing?
The pain of their vitriol and their stories,
Hangs on minds fervently,
Upends our authority,
And it fades with no urgency.
Stories, stories, stories.
That's all it ever was,
That's all it ever will be.
Because I can see what the men have done.
They wrote the play, that makes us run.
They flipped the script on how life should be,
Rewrote and revised until no one could see,
That we weren't the problem,
No, not you and not me.
That they made a system,
Where no one is free.
——————————————
06/20/2025
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem