Miss Gray

Right now I feel like screaming
Faced with your stance of moral superiority 
Instilling on me, this stereotyped idea that you understand me
When was the last time you listened to me?
When did you stop to hear what I was actually saying?

You've categorized me into these pigeon holed ideas of what you believe 
Brushing off my substance
That being raised in your “conservative society” 
Has ruined me, I’m tainted by my upbringing

You ignore the irony
Thinking you’re intellectually liberated. 
But actually you’re a living hypocrisy 
Whose gratification will only come through being isolated

You don’t want coexistence and understanding 
You want to be the judge and determine the standard
And for those who don’t agree, then it’s fine to slander

You bug me. 
But yo'ure not worth the frustrated conversations
So I’ll sit silently
And practice my patience.

I am a Bird

Before I could fly I never would have thought I would dream for clipped wings

That I would desire the songs that the caged bird sings.  

Before I could fly, all I did was dream

I sat and imagined such wondrous things

I dreamt of the unknown, the adventure, the thrill

That I would change the world, as if there were a prophecy I was meant to fulfill

When I started to fly, I quickly wanted to soar

To leave my home behind, to travel more and more

But the farther I got the more I needed to rest

I longed for those days I spent dreaming in the nest

Birds are born to fly south, away from their home

But do birds ever return to where they were born?

I miss the calm, the ease of the days.

Where hours would pass softly in summer’s haze.

The world is so big, convoluted, complex

I’ve seen so much hate, and hurt with such harmful effects

The simplicity is gone

The love and compassion is few

Support systems are compromised

People’s self-interest has become toxic skewing my worldview

Peaceful birds are shot and killed

And their freedoms are torn from them against their will

It’s dangerous to be a bird

To sing the songs that have been left unheard

That now when I reflect I don’t know what I prefer

Because now I dream for those clipped wings

That my days would be filled only with my wondrous dreams.