America: a Prison in Drag

Beauty is easy to buy

Kindness is hard to find

America is a prison in drag

Each citizen a wedded hag

Take the longer route, sit on the back of the bus watch the traffic

Do you sense how precious my freedom is to me?

Pained at what I used to be

The fog of despair

I’d rather see the dark sky than the reflection of the glass window

Peering into the bus reverberating the tortured parts of each soul

What are you seeing into?

Are you buying your frustration?

Buying the last of the mornings baked goods at dusk

The hue of my aura coloring the pages I have written and have yet to write

Anxiety is a physical commotion