Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

As early as 6 I wrote a statement
Not one a 6 year old should understand
With age I've come to remember it fondly
And with long loathing I reminisce 
The phrase was not just a passing phase
It was a word of power to me
"Saka" was a new invention
It was older than time itself
See saka was just an abbreviation 
A pseudonym and a callsign 
For to me, and of power not of my making
It meant "maturity is a responsibility not a choice"
It behooves me to disseminate that I only understand now what I was truly feeling. 
For maturity was only a martyr for a loss
A feeling of something taken from me without a recourse. 
For a child without a childhood knows only of his responsibility 
His only call to serve 
To be the man he is not. 
In clarity I've begun to unblock my feeling
And begun to mourn that loss
Without connection to a singular incident 
I can only hope not to spin like a top
I hurt in each part of my body
A bullet in my hip
My shoulder falling off
My kneecaps both worn and broken
Arthritis in my joints
My friendships are missing
Worn from the storm
For animal they called me
Venomous or not
For creature they treated me
Run out by the mob
In exile for mistakes I couldn't dare to choose
For social workings are complicated 
People are bitter too. 
Running in the fog I weep
A man without a name
And without a peep they look at me
Drenched in my shame
With no defense I offer my last drop of blood
For exile they call me
Sentenced to the mud.