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A poem of grief

There is no autonomy
I have little autonomy
Beat me
shatter me
tell me what I am to do
There is no autonomy

Be silent for you do not know what you speak.

Wait listlessly
without words
without sounds
Am I something?
Can I be something?
I am nothing.

How surreal it must be to be free
Actually free? 
How foolish it must be to think we could be free
On leashes, long leashes
Eyes forward, unblinking
Our blindness is profound, it borders retardation

Does my grief echo into yours?
Does my pain rattles your brain?
Does it scream to your soul, grief you cry into your pillow?
drown into your alcohol?
numb with cheap or expensive drug
pain you slice into your skin with cold steel knife?

Be silent because you do not know what you speak.

There is no autonomy
I have little autonomy
WE have no autonomy. 

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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