I am the voice of the masses, weeping in silence
As modernism robs my body of completeness
Spilling the blood of babes yet unformed
Incurring wrath from avenues yet undiscovered
I am the voice of the school drop-outs
Retired to trade tirelessly in traffic
Cut off from mates, detached like placentas
Thrown into the waste basket of loneliness—and suffering
Call me jobless, but mad you’ll appear,
For a voice if am, and again, I cry
I am the voice of prisoners
Learning all they can from the streets,
Their lives divided in half by black and white papers—
Your divorce papers, unstable one
I am the voice of rapists
Dragged to porn by unrated movies,
Seeking solace from naked treasures—
Products of your night of ugly decisions
Send me an arrow in anger…
It’ll pierce my heart, but a word won’t break
I’m after all a voice
I am the voice of the spirits,
Beckoning to the world from beneath the ground
Sad to see so many broken hearts
Sadder, noticing our families are part
Apart, weeping in the solitude of darkness
With eyes heavy as bags of cement
Young lovers torn by greed and misunderstanding
Damning the next generation into sorrow alarming
Sue me to court and I’ll appear
And defend myself till you bow in shame
And if unjustly, you win,
None can stop me
For a voice I am
I am the voice of the teary-eyed,
The voice against divorce…
